


Quintessence of Life: Mysteries of the Past

by Athenais_Penelope_Clemence



Series: Quintessence of Life [1]
Category: 12th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, Robin Hood (BBC 2006), Robin Hood (Traditional), Robin Hood - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Crusades, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mental Anguish, Romance, Sexual Content, Swordfighting, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:20:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 315,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4800971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athenais_Penelope_Clemence/pseuds/Athenais_Penelope_Clemence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Torn between Robin and Guy, Marian marries Guy during the siege of Nottingham by Prince John's army. Robin, Guy, and Marian must unmask the mysteries of the past and untangle the triangle of love and hatred. This is part one of the long epic (trilogy).</p><p>The main characters are Robin and Guy. Robin and Guy have canonical portrayals; they change as the plot develops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and Broken Betrothals

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of the long epic “Quintessence of Life”, a long and captivating epic about love, hatred, politics, treachery, and mysteries. This part is called "Mysteries of the Past".
> 
> The part “Mysteries of the Past” begins in S2E10. Torn between Robin and Guy, Marian marries Guy during the siege of Nottingham, when, surrounded by Prince John's army, she thinks that they won’t survive the siege. Robin, Guy, and Marian have to unmask the mysteries of the past and untangle the triangle of love and hatred. The Black Knights actively plot to kill King Richard and take over England.
> 
> The main characters are Robin and Guy.
> 
> If you choose to read this story/novel, I think you will like it. Yet, if you are an extremely devoted fan of any pairing (Robin/Marian or Guy/Marian), then you may find it somewhat difficult to accept the fact that, in spite of marrying Guy, Marian is torn between Robin and Guy, as it was on the show in the end of season 2.
> 
> The plot is largely focused on the political aspect of Robin Hood's cause – fighting for England and King Richard. The second part of Season 2 was largely about Robin's efforts to save the king and defeat the Black Knights, and this story has a similar plotline. Robin is portrayed as the king's man and the people's hero, but anyway more as the king's man.
> 
> The love component includes Robin/Marian, Guy/Marian, Will/Djaq, and some other relationships. The love triangle of Marian, Robin Hood, and Guy of Gisborne is analyzed in details through actions and thoughts of the characters.
> 
> The plot is not absolutely historically accurate. Nevertheless, there are many events from history, like the end of the Third Crusade and King Richard’s captivity. Some historical events are changed for fictional purposes.
> 
> There is no character bashing in this story/novel. No character is placed on a pedestal, even Robin. I am not hostile to any particular character and try to be fair to Robin, Guy, Marian, the sheriff, and other characters. I am trying to portray everyone more or less closer to the reality (what we had on the show). Yet, some actions/situations may be interpreted as out-of-character, but this is alternative reality and fiction, and there can be some deviations from an original portrayal/case.
> 
> Please be aware that there are scenes of violence and bloodshed. There are also extremely sensitive scenes, very emotional and dramatic.
> 
> Reviews are appreciated. Constructive criticism is always welcome. I would be very grateful if you find a minute to write a review. I only ask you to be polite and tolerant as I believe that if people begin to criticize the story without explaining what they dislike, it creates unhealthy tension.
> 
> Undoubtedly, I don't own the characters and the show. I hope you will enjoy reading “Mysteries of the Past”.

**Quintessence of Life**

**Part 1**

**Mysteries of the Past**

**Prologue**

The hour of sunset in Sherwood Forest was still and lonely, blazing in gold, red, and green. The young sandy-haired man stalked slowly through the woods, where he had spent the gladsome minutes of his childhood and boyhood together with Marian of Knighton and Much, strolling lazily along serpentine paths, listening to the gentle murmur of trees and the sweet singing of birds. This man was Robin Hood, in his old life known as Sir Robin James Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and Lord of Locksley.

Robin stopped and looked around, searching for a familiar path to his favorite place Sherwood. His pale blue eyes were empty, without a flicker of mischief or a sparkle of joy. Dressed in a brown satin tunic and green trousers, his slender figure blended into the green surroundings. His face was ghostly pale, and a gorgeous mane of sandy-colored hair looked bright gold in the last glow of the setting sun. The outlaws waited for him in the camp, but he didn't want to meet them today.

He crossed the clearing and stopped near the meadow where he had often seated with Marian in a tight, affectionate embrace. He stared at the tree as if he were mesmerized, hungry for the vision of a certain form and the sound of a certain voice. But there was no one there – he was alone in the woods, together with his pain and sorrow, and Marian wasn’t going to come to him. Now the only interest he could spare from being in this place, or rather from a symphony of his old dreams that would never come true, was a painful reminder of what could have been and what he had lost.

He shut his eyes to block the images in his mind; the despondency of his heart was depicted in his countenance. " _Goodbye forever, my love_ ," he murmured as he opened his eyes. "I remember the night when I kissed you for the first time; we stood here, under this tree, then. It felt so well, so true, and so natural – it was Heaven.” He swallowed heavily. “We parted our ways here so long ago when you broke our engagement. But we were so happy here after our reconciliation." His eyes stung, and he blinked back tears. "Now all these moments seem so far-away, as if they were just a sweet dream."

The red evening flame vanished from the summits of the trees, and the woods were almost in shadows. The late summer forest was beautiful, but the serenity of woodland didn't interest Robin Hood. The wind gusted through the trees, signing a dirge about the death of the love of Robin Hood and Maid Marian. The sound of this sorrowful, plangent symphony echoed through Robin’s head like a shout across a valley of death and destruction, and there was a feeling of rain in the air which would drive in gusts on the forest.

A distraught Robin sat down on the grass, leaning back against the trunk of a meadow. He felt depleted, and all his strength was scattered in fits of agitation, of struggle, of despondency, and of agony most of all. His mind was burning feverishly with the images of the most tragic day in his life – the image of Gisborne holding Marian’s hand and informing him about their wedding. Although it still seemed unreal, Robin knew that his romance with Marian was over, and he prayed that God would give him the strength to survive his heartbreak. Robin had lost Marian, and she was now Guy of Gisborne's wife.

He stared into the emptiness, his eyes vacant and luminous blue with tears. The thought that Marian had married the man who had attempted regicide and who had almost killed him filled his entire being with revulsion and hatred. The vision of Marian and Guy standing together, their hands entwined, came to his mind as an unbearable emotional pain ripped through him. All that prevented him from collapsing was his knowledge that England and King Richard needed him. His expression was a personification of agony, as if he were a man felt thrilled at the prospect of dying to stop his suffering.

A sudden flaring of the afterglow of sunset filled the landscape with lights and shadows, yellow, orange, blue, and black, like the radiance of the darkening sky. Robin shut his eyes and dragged a deep breath, and held it for a long, long time. His eyes stung with tears, and the sunset suddenly wavered behind the blur of tears. Failing to banish bitter thoughts from his mind, he lowered his chin to his chest and gave free rein to his feelings, and several tears, salty and burning, slid down his cheeks.

He tried to breathe in and out deeply to release some of the pent-up stress in his system, but the air could barely squeeze through the constriction of his throat. For a moment, Robin hated Sherwood and England; he hated his life, King Richard, his friends, and even God; he hated himself, his convictions and his choices. And yet, he knew that he would have never acted differently even if he had been granted a chance to change his life. He clenched his fists, and his nails bit into his palms. A funereal numbness overcame him, and he feared to move, to speak, and even to blink.

It was a moment of more strong pain and intense bitterness than Robin had ever felt before. “Marian,” he whispered as if she could hear him, his chest heavy with pain. “How could you marry this traitor after everything we have been through together?” Why have you betrayed our love? Did you want to hurt me by marrying him like I hurt you when I left for the war?" There was a pressure in his heart that made it difficult to speak, and he trailed off. “Marian, you killed me! Do you hear me? You killed me!"

The utter stillness of the forest greeted him, and Robin squeezed his eyes shut, as if it could save him from his heartache. He was too frightened and too confused, rhythms of agony spreading through his body in waves as his mind replayed today’s events again. The desolate silence augmented Robin's distress, heightening his emotions and sharpening his senses. Fresh tears came and rolled down his cheeks, but he didn’t even brush them away and let them fall. The world was so unfair, ugly, and hateful, and there was no place for kindness, trust, and truth there.

The sun was low, and the tall trees sent their shadows across the clearing, but Robin wanted darkness to blanket Nottingham and him, as if it could take away all his hurt and pain.  His heart was bleeding like a large open wound, his soul was devastated, his dreams and hopes were shattered. Yet, for whatever reason, he felt that his life was not over, as if someone were whispering words of consolation into his ear in a voice full of kindness and tenderness, imploring him to break through the thick fog of fear and pain. But his grief was so great that his pain blocked his perception of voices and sentiments, leaving him almost numb.

Despite a rainstorm brewing, Robin decided not to spend the night in the outlaws' camp. He was so absorbed in his grief that he lost track of time, and soon the darkness descended upon the forest. He raised his eyes to Heaven and studied the clouds driving across the sky. He felt the cool dampness of a cold rain on his face, and drops of rain mingled with his own tears. He knew that it would rain during the whole night, but he didn't care that he would be soaked to the bone.

He rose to his feet and ran his eyes across the clearing, having difficulty to believe that he was alone in this place, but it was real and he had to accept that. There were many other things he had to take care of, but he had no strength to fight anymore, which brought him to utter hopelessness in his own power and in himself. His desperation suggested a resource, and he lowered his head and fixed his gaze on his sheathed scimitar. The weapon belonged to the first Saracen whom he had killed in the Holy Land, and he kept the weapon in commemoration of his first killing in a bloody battle.

Death at his own hand suddenly seemed a blessing and a way to plunge into oblivion which his heart craved so desperately. Robin unsheathed his sword, looking at that blade and thinking how many people had died at the murderous penetration of Damascus steel into human flesh. He went still, completely still, staring at the blade for what seemed an eternity. He wanted to finish his own life with one strike.

The blood mounted to his face and neck, and he looked almost angry as he dropped the weapon to the ground. He made up his mind – he wouldn't surrender to despair. He loathed himself for his weakness as he permitted himself to think of taking his own life. A feeling of revulsion was so strong and painful in his mind that the tears welled up and flowed abundantly, and he gave himself a word that he would never allow himself to think of that again. It was not in his character to give up and surrender.

If Marian betrayed him and their love, then Robin would live for England, King Richard, the people, and his friends. He was betrayed by the only woman he had ever loved, but he wasn't alone in the world – his friends and many other people loved and needed him. Robin Hood had a magnanimous soul and a kind heart. He was a fighter for justice and peace, for what he believed in, though he knew that his dreams would always be illusions.

Robin wasn't an utter fool, and he understood that his mission to save England was doomed to failure from the beginning – he could save only some innocents and the king, as well as give the people hope for the brighter and better future. Such thoughts were painful for Robin, but they had suddenly entered his mind in the past months of his struggle with Sheriff Vaisey and Guy of Gisborne. But he had never told anyone of his grievous musings, for it would mean the death of Robin Hood and his cause.

"My life is not over, and I will survive. It is not a good time to die, for King Richard and England need me and the sheriff hasn’t been defeated yet," Robin said aloud, trying to instill more confidence in himself. His cheeks burnt with shame at the thought of what he had just wanted to do to himself, thinking that he was an utter fool to admit a thought about suicide. "I will forget her. I will move on. She is nothing to me. She doesn’t deserve my love and devotion."

Robin stayed in the clearing for the whole night. He lay on his back under the meadow, his eyes tightly shut. The darkness and stillness cloaked him in a deep slumber, and he couldn't help but dream about the clouds of dust, the crimson sand, the clang of swords, the clamor of battles, and the smell of blood and death which were an essential part of his life since he had turned eighteen.

Although physically Robin was in the forest, his mind transported him many hundreds of miles away, to Acre, into another reality – to the time when he had served as captain of King Richard's private guard. In his dream, he could see himself dressed in a white Crusader tunic and a silver chainmail as he stormed out of his tent, realizing that there was an unexpected attack on the king's camp despite the ceasefire. It was again the dream about the fateful Saracen attack when Robin had been grievously wounded by the masked Saracen – Guy of Gisborne, his sworn enemy since childhood.

Robin shuddered in his fitful sleep. In his dream, he could see himself in a crouched position on the sand, shooting arrows with deadly accuracy at the Saracen assassins. He managed to kill four of them before the moment of his demise came. Then he could feel a light touch of someone's hand on his shoulder, and then the sharp, violent pain in his left side coursed through him as the cold edge of the blade sliced his flesh deeply through his ribs, not piercing his heart only by a miracle.

Even though he lay upon the green grass, Robin felt as if the ground were the blood-soaked sand, which was usually cold during desert nights. He winced as he saw himself tumble to the sand and felt hot, thick blood slipping slowly out of his body. He could almost hear Much's anguished cries as his friend rushed to him and knelt by his side to inspect his injury. Robin writhed in agony as if he were still tormented by the searing, white-hot pain in his side and dizziness sweeping over him.

Visions changed, and now Robin dreamt of the tall, muscular Saracen standing above the king's sleeping figure, with a sword in his hands, ready to strike a fatal downward blow. He dreamt of fighting with Guy, lunging at him and parrying his blows, then swinging his sword in a deadly arc and making a deep cut on his enemy's forearm. The vision of a black wolf's head tattoo on Guy's forearm was an easily recognizable thing, appalling and causing nausea to stir in the pit of his stomach.

Robin awoke from his nightmare with a loud scream, cold sweat dripping from his forehead, his heart racing. He always awoke at the moment when he sliced Guy's forearm and caught a glimpse of a black wolf's head tattoo on Guy's skin. He dragged a deep, excruciating breath, then brushed away strands of his wet hair from his forehead.

He lifted his shirt and traced his fingers along his left side, where Guy had wounded him more than two years ago. He gasped sharply as his hand touched his hideous scar, stark against his side even after more than two years. He closed his eyes against the remembered pain and fear he had felt on the night of the Saracen attack when Guy had plunged his dagger into him. He had saved the king on that night, but he had failed to kill Gisborne, which made his victory hollow. Before the scar had been a tantalizing reminder of his perceived failure to punish the king’s would-be assassin for an attempt on his liege’s life, but now it became an everlasting symbol of his ruined life and hopes.

Robin’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked up. The sun had already set behind the trees, which were still gilded with a russet reflection. The rain had ceased more than an hour before, and a thick crescent moon hung in the sky. He banned himself from thinking of death. It was not his time to die. King Richard and England and the people needed him. He had a mission to fulfill, and he wouldn't fail.

§§§

At Locksley Manor, Sir Guy Crispin Fitzcorbet of Gisborne lay on a wide mahogany bed hung with heavy green and golden curtains, several striped cushions spread across soft white sheets. On his wedding night, he was alone in his bedroom: Marian was sleeping in another room as she asked him to wait with the consummation of their marriage.

Guy tossed and turned in his bed, muttering something unclear in Norman-French under his breath, as if he were feverish and incoherent. He was plagued by nightmares since his boyhood – since the tragic day of the fire at Gisborne Manor, when Roger of Gisborne, Ghislaine of Gisborne, and Malcolm of Locksley had died in the red flames that had destroyed his life. He had long resolved to stop fighting off his nightmares, and every night he was tormented by demons of the past that were slowly killing him.

Tonight Guy's dreams started from the vision of the burning Gisborne Manor, the orange flames licking every crack and cranny of the building. He dreamed of Bailiff Longthorn and the crowd of infuriated people who set the fire at the façade of the manor, blocking all the ways for the trapped people to escape. His heart thundered an uneven beat as the bailiff's voice commanding to burn everything to ashes resonated in his mind; he could hear the bailiff's accusation of murdering his own parents and the final verdict to banish him and his sister Isabella from Locksley.

Soon Guy was gripped by the dream about the Saracen attack on the king's camp; he often had the same dream after his return from Acre. He could see himself running across the sandy dunes, a group of the Saracen assassins following him. Visions crowded his mind: the disguise of Saracens, the monotonous sandy dunes, the bitter cold of desert night, the fetid odor of blood in the air, the attack on the king’s camp, a clang of swords - everything so real, as if he were back on the battlefield of Acre. Yet, all the images of the attack were blending into one man’s face – Robin of Locksley’s face.

Every muscle of his tired body tensed as his mind reproduced the image of himself heading to the place where Robin crouched on the sand and was firing arrows at the assassins, killing them one by one. Guy shifted on his bed, stretching his long legs across the sheets. He could feel his blood boiling with anger, his heart seized with unlimited bloodlust. Guy stiffened as he envisioned moving towards his target from the back, putting a hand on Robin's shoulder, and then plunging his dagger into Robin's left side. In the next moment, Guy heard Robin's scream of pain and saw his enemy tumble to the ground.

The slow stream of images of the Saracen attack played out in his mind. Guy envisioned himself running to the king's tent and standing near the king's bed. But for some strange reason he paused, hesitating to do the evil dead, his heart hammering harder in excitement mingled with doubt and fear. He recalled Sheriff Vaisey's words that hesitation at a crucial moment because of misplaced sensibilities and conflicting emotions could cause failure of a sacred mission.

And yet, Guy continued standing near the king’s bed, the darkness and the light fighting in his heart and soul. Perhaps he still possessed a shred of little honor, which made him loath to cross the line and kill the king. But he had no choice, for he needed the king's death to gain absolute power and enormous wealth. His life and future depended on the success of his mission in Acre, and he steeled himself against a feeling of pity for the king who didn't deserve his throne.

A loud, desperate voice calling for King Richard pierced Guy's dreams, and then the tantalizing image of Robin running into the tent, his Saracen curved sword flashing silver in the darkness, came to his mind. Guy groaned at the memory of his feelings – bewilderment, amazement, fear, and dread. He didn't expect Robin to be alive after he had stabbed him, and he feared that he had to fight with the king's legendary captain for a chance to flee and possibly even for his own life. And yet, oddly enough he felt released from importuning doubt, and he was relieved that he didn't kill Richard.

A frightened Guy gave a howl of pain and dread, and his body started shaking, his eyelids twitching. In his dreams, he was transfixed with horror at the touch of cold steel slashing his sleeve. He could almost feel the sudden, fierce pain shooting through his flesh as Robin's sword sliced his forearm. He suppressed a shiver as his hand automatically went to his forearm, the fingers of the other clenching into the folds of his night robe that clung tightly to his body. And then he was running from the king’s tent, being chased by the Crusaders, running faster and faster, knowing that if he was captured, he would die.

He awoke with a jerk, his heart pounding, his mouth dry with fear, a terrible feeling of dread oppressing her. His entire body was shaking with fear and rage. He glanced around, feeling a cold shiver progressing up his back. He slept in the master bedroom which had once been occupied by Malcolm of Locksley. That thought sent a wave of nausea from his stomach to his throat, and he swallowed hard. Since Guy had moved in Locksley, he never felt that he was at his own home, for the memories of Robin were in every room and in every corner of the manor.

Guy turned his head and stared into the glowing, golden flames of the candles on the bedside table. His glossy raven hair shone in the candlelight. Taking a deep breath, he held it for a long time and then exhaled sharply. He took another deep breath, trying to relax, but after feeling a dread of that magnitude it was difficult to regain composure. His breath rasped harsh in his throat, his heart skipped a beat, and he shook his head, blinking the sweat from his eyes.

The Saracen attack was engraved in his memory forever. "Will I ever forget about the Saracen attack? Why does every night I have the same dream?" Guy asked himself, clueless why he always became so anxious when he thought of his failure in Acre. "Why do I feel that I did a wrong thing when I went to Acre? Why do I feel relieved that I didn’t kill the king?” He failed to find an explanation, and his anxiety morphed into a hot rage, which, however, quickly abated.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to think of the Saracen attack. He concentrated instead on the recent events, feeling elated at the thought that he had taken everything from Robin and had completed his plan of revenge for the years of living in poverty in Normandy, for insults and humiliation he endured from Vaisey, and for all the misery in his life. He had won the battle with Robin, and he smiled with dark pleasure, thinking of the pain he had caused his archenemy.

He smiled with grim satisfaction as he imagined Robin going mad and suffering in the cold forest on Marian's wedding night. “ _Mourn the loss of your love, Hood!_ Mourn and suffer and weep if you can weep,” he said, as if he were talking to Robin. His heart pounded harder in delight, for thoughts about Robin’s pain made him happy. “You lost her, Hood! I defeated you today!”

Yet, Guy knew that his present happiness was an illusion, behind the delightful facade there was an increasing sense of anxiety and great worry, which were ripping through his gut as he considered all that could go wrong. If he was honest with himself, he feared that he didn't win the final battle with Robin, including the fight for Marian's heart. Guy cursed under his breath, exhaling in a sigh of frustration and nervousness. He felt fear shredding his heart with every tumultuous beat.

He touched the place on his right forearm where Robin's sword had injured him on the night of the Saracen raid. When he came back from Acre, his black wolf's head tattoo was still there and there was a scar across it. But on the feast to celebrate the king's birthday Robin Hood had ripped open his sleeve and had discovered his tattoo; later Vaisey had burnt it off with a special acid. Guy also didn’t forget the day when Robin had come so close to murdering him in the woods and they had fought like two possessed men; later the sheriff had only added him more pain.

Guy laughed, the sound reverberating throughout the chamber. "Well done! I took everything from Robin Hood. I avenged the disgrace and plight of the Gisborne family," he told himself, his mouth curving in a poisonously sweet smile. "Marian married me, and now she is my wife. Hood lost her, and that’s exactly what he deserves. She is only mine – she will never be Hood's again."

Guy turned his gaze at the window that wasn't draped with curtains whatsoever. The rain had apparently stopped, and only a few thin clouds appeared moving swiftly over the wide, dark expanse of the sky. Yet, the wind continued rising and the moan of the forest increased to a roar. There was the inky darkness outside, for the moon disappeared behind the clouds, perhaps only to reappear blooming in some other spot, in some distant parts of the forest.

All of a sudden, impotent fury swept through Guy with the swiftness of a winter squall. He had to beat back the memories of agony, pain, darkness, and misery. He swallowed heavily, again haunted by the sensation that the events of this day didn't make him happy and didn't give him relief either. Marian plastered a fake smile on her face, but he knew that her smile was only a feeble attempt at the expression a good wife should wear. He told himself that he shouldn't be having such thoughts, yearnings, and doubts, but his gut feeling told him that his concern wasn’t groundless.

His feelings for Marian were something wonderful and more special than anything he had ever experienced in the darkness he had lived in since he had met Vaisey. Nevertheless, a part of him ached with the strange feeling that his relationship with Marian was only for a time, not forever, although now they were legally married. He feared that they would fail to make their marriage something more than pretense, for the shadow of the great Robin Hood was still lurking between them.

He shook his head and shuddered. The image of Robin's face on the day of the fire came to his mind. He could still remember Robin's vulnerable and frightened face, his enemy's gaze full of pain and fear, his little voice asking about his father's fate, every word echoing with husky, persistent entreaty and sheer horror, which had captured Guy's attention. He wondered why he remembered Robin's scared face so often, as if fate were mercilessly toying with him, refusing to grant him a desirable oblivion.

"God help me forget the past," Guy said to himself in a pleading voice. His gaze slid to the forearm Robin had once wounded, and he felt his heart constrict in his chest. "Why is Hood always present in my life? Will I be ever free from him?"

Fear lived in his heart. Bloody battles, torture, physical pain, injuries, mental anguish, and humiliation from the sheriff — none of these things frightened Guy as much as Robin Hood did. He dreaded to think about the day of King Richard’s return, if the absentee monarch ever returned. He tried unsuccessfully to quell the fears that continued assaulting him, and the thought of his conflict with Robin Hood terrified him to the core, dread wrapping his chest like a band of steel.

"The battle is not over," Guy muttered to himself, clenching his fists, his face stiff with fury. "I should kill Hood before the king’s return. One of us must die – this thief must die."

Guy looked as if he might say something more to himself, but his mouth went dry, his heart sank into his throat. He tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering shut at last under the force of his exhaustion. But just before he again drifted off to his dreams, Guy found himself smiling despite his ill temper and bad foreboding, for he had won the fight with Hood today. And yet, he felt that his fate was tied to Robin's in ways that only God and devil understood.

At the same time, Robin returned to the outlaws' camp. Not wishing to wake up his friends, he seated himself on a trunk of a tree and folded his arms over his chest, his face revealing more openly than any words how unhappy and angry he was at the moment. The idea of Gisborne living at Locksley Manor and oppressing innocent people made his skin crawl with disgust and his blood boil in anger.

"Gisborne, the fight is not over," Robin whispered into the darkness, looking up, at the dark sky. "I swear that I will win the final battle. You will pay for high treason – you are doomed to die."

Robin and Guy were dancing on the edge of a dangerous precipice, where any wrong word, act, and deed could cause immediate, painful retribution. There was an abyss waiting for Robin and Guy. And they could fall there and disappear as if they had never been. Their battles were like lethal dances of love and hatred – like something darker than black moonless night and more hellish than eternal damnation of a soul. The pain and hatred in the lives of Robin and Guy were an illusion that, however, was more real than reality, and the truth was the only salvation from the world of shadows.

 

**Chapter 1**

**Broken Betrothals**

Lady Marian Isabella Fitzwalter of Knighton, presently known as Lady Gisborne, sat on the edge of a large oak bed covered with golden and green tapestry. She was in a beautiful, spacious bedchamber at Locksley Manor, her new home. She occupied Robin of Locksley’s former bedchamber where Robin had lived throughout many years before his departure to the Holy Land; the servants brought her things there after her arrival in Locksley with Guy.

Marian stared at the gorgeous wedding ring with an oval cut diamond surrounded by five small diamonds; it was the same ring Guy had given her on their first wedding. Then she looked into the emptiness, not wishing to believe in what she had done today during the siege of the town by Prince John's army. She didn’t want to accept the painful truth that she had married Guy of Gisborne today, for the thought of being his wife tantalized her. Then reality sank in.

When Nottingham was surrounded by Prince John's army, Marian thought that they would not survive the siege. Death never seemed so close to Marian like in those minutes; she was astonished to discover that _she didn't want to die and she did fear death_. She began to believe that Robin would probably fail to bring Vaisey back in time. Even Will's presence in the castle and his assurance that Robin would move Heaven and Earth to be with her didn't calm her down. Robin was just a man, not God, and there was a chance that he would be too late to save them.

During the siege, it was as though the angel of death had chilled Marian's romantic feelings for Robin and had weakened her commitment to their relationship, as if the chill of death had scared away all the graces to whom she had sacrificed so much for the people’s sake and for Robin Hood's cause. Strangely, all those exciting pictures of her life with Robin and their children at Locksley, an ocean of happy days that had gleamed incessantly and brightly in her imagination for so long, and all other allurements of her future happy life with Robin were gone on the brink of death. Only fear of death and sensation of Guy's presence so close to her filled her world during those minutes.

She tried to distract herself by helping the people to ease their fears, but her own fears and uncertainties came flooding back every time her gaze fell on the frightened faces of women and children. Although she looked relatively calm and managed to smile, a cold shudder of dread and horror passed through her every time when her gaze fell on the horrified faces of townspeople.

Having reconciled with her fate to die without Robin by her side, Marian lost her self-possession and contact with reality. The greatest fear she had ever had – to die absolutely alone and unmarried – filled her entire being, for she did not see how Robin's usual protection could prevent her from dying. A chill fear got the better of her, and even her self-possession failed to reign supreme over all the terror in her heart. She was very frightened, much more frightened of death than she had thought she could be.

At the same time, the voice in the back of her head said to her that she could die with Guy by her side if she was deprived of a chance to be with Robin in her last minutes. That voice was low and toneless and infinitely sad, yet firm and confident; she heard that voice so clearly, as though somebody had spoken to her in reality. When Guy of Gisborne begged her to marry him on his knees, she glanced into his eyes, usually so cold, but so sincere, so warm, and so affectionate at that instant. She felt pity and kindness for him, thinking that there was goodness in Guy's heart and that he could change, becoming a good man. She also pitied herself and Robin who would most likely never see her again.

An invisible strength pushed her to Guy, and she accepted his marriage proposal. She didn't love the man clad in black leather, but it didn't matter on the very verge of death. She only knew that she didn't want to die alone while Guy was close to her and could possibly make her free of her fears and troubles at least for the short moments before their departure to God.

She said nothing, no word of protest or acceptance: she just followed Guy, ignoring Will's questioning looks and his apparent displeasure. She barely remembered the moment when Guy and she entered the chapel; she barely understood that the priest proclaimed them a husband and a wife. She felt only numbness and strange calmness when they exchanged marriage vows.

After the siege had been over and Robin had returned with the sheriff, Marian was shocked with what she had done, but there was no way back. But, though she tried to reassure herself that Robin would understand her, she still feared that he would never forgive her for her betrayal and even would never want to see her again. Mixed feelings of fear and guilt pulled at her as Marian remembered, through some tenacious thread of memory in her brain, another voice, the voice of the man whom she loved for so long, and that voice – Robin's voice – told her that she had made a fatal mistake.

Marian tried to find an answer why she had married Guy, but she couldn't; the only explanation was her fear of death that deprived her of rationality and logic. She threw herself into a sophisticated labyrinth of pain and unhappiness, and she didn't know why she did that. Her attitude to her own actions was ambiguous. At one side, she regretted that she had married Guy, for she had ruined a chance to have her long-awaited happiness with Robin. Yet, she was genuinely attracted to Guy, thinking that in some ways he could be even a better husband than Robin.

Robin and Marian were separated by insurmountable obstacles and their future was uncertain. Her relations with Robin were tested since his return to England, and there were times when she wasn't sure that they should be together, in spite of her feelings for him. Before Robin's return from war, Guy had been around Marian for quite a long time; she began considering him a potential match for herself, but Robin’s unexpected return had changed everything.

A male name – Robin – sounded like a bird's song in Marian's ears. He was Sir Robert James Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and the Lord of Locksley, who was called simply Robin since his early childhood in the association with a bird. Like a little bird, Robin had left her to fight for King Richard in the Holy Land, had been away for a long, long time, and then had returned to her, changing her life in the most unpredictable and most revolutionary ways. After all, Robin had always been the most mischievous and intolerable man, who had been able to turn everyone’s life topsy-turvy.

Marian still remembered her last meeting with Robin in the woods, immediately before his departure from Nottingham. It was the most heartbreaking and life-changing moment in her life. Every time she recalled the moment when Robin had informed her that the newly crowned King Richard had honored him by including the young Earl of Huntingdon into the king’s retinue on the Crusade, her spirits immediately plummeted and her heart collapsed in her chest.

Marian hated the days that had followed Robin’s return to Nottingham after they had attended King Richard’s luxurious coronation in London. The next day, Robin had come to the castle and invited her to have a long ride in the woods, chaperoned by Much. Robin had been reserved and tongue-tied, Much had been unusually quiet, and she had wondered what was going on. On that day, Robin hadn’t told her about his decision to leave for the Holy Land. In two days, Robin and Marian had agreed to meet in Sherwood. 

 

It was the hour of sunset in Sherwood Forest, and all was as peaceful as it could be some magical land of subtle delight. The birds were singing songs of celestial harmony, the gentle wind was whispering lullabies to slumbering nature, and shadows were gliding to and fro through the clearing that was Robin and Marian’s favorite place in the woods. They often watched beautiful sunrises and sunsets there, sitting in a tight embrace and dreaming of their future; he confessed to loving Marian and first kissed her in this very place.

As Marian reached her destination, she dismounted and tethered her horse to a tree. She crossed the clearing, her heart pounding in delight. She briefly paused and lifted her eyes to the vault of the vast canvas, humming a joyful song under her breath. She frowned at the sight of the sky streaked with gray clouds, through which the sun gave notification of its slow descent. On the opposite side of the clearing, Marian noticed Robin standing under an old tall oak. Her fiancé was alone, and she rejoiced that they would not be chaperoned today.

”There you are, my love!” Robin exclaimed excitedly, grinning roguishly at her. “I thought you were never coming! Hurry, hurry to me, Marian! You shouldn't keep me waiting."

”How impatient of you, Robin,” Marian retorted with a hint of laughter in her voice. “What good has impatience ever brought? It has only served as the mother of mistakes.”

Once his eyes met hers, they were both lost in their depths for a moment, like sinking into a sea of warmth and exaltation. The need to erase the space between them was egregious, and Robin trembled with it, his eyes traversing her face, lingering for a second on the sweep of her lashes. Her spirit soared like a bird when he gathered Marian into his strong arms, and his rapacious mouth caught hers in a breathtaking kiss with a hunger and intensity that made her shiver from head to toe. She molded herself against his body and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers entangled in his thick sandy hair.

“Marian," Robin said as he broke the kiss and drew back.

Robin perused her in admiration, his heart beating faster. Marian enchanted him like no other women did. The melodic modulations of her voice, the gentle curves of her beautiful lips, the deep sapphire gleam in those lovely eyes that bewitched him, the underlying vibrant ripple of her fiery spirit that played under all her moods as though it had been a gift from gods – Marian evoked in Robin exquisite happiness and unutterable joy. It was a dreamlike state of gladness and perpetual harmony that possessed Robin when they were together.

With volition, he mustered the courage to voice the truth. He looked into her eyes, his gaze vulnerable before turning blank. “There is something very important.”

Marian smiled. “Robin, you know that you can always tell me everything.”

Robin took her hands in his and began, “I have to leave, Marian.”

A glint of surprise entered her eyes. “Robin, you have just come back from King Richard’s coronation in London! I can hardly believe that you are leaving again!"

"Marian," he called in a voice thick with emotion. “Something has changed, my love.”

A sense of unease prickled along her nerves. “I don’t understand you.”

The decision Robin had made up weighed down upon him, and, suddenly, drew her close. “I am leaving, hopefully for not more than a year. I must do my duty to my liege and my country.” His face contorted in anguish, he admitted, “Life will be a torture without you.”

Marian let out her breath in a small gasp. “Robin, why do you have to be separated from me?” Her mind drifting back to the most desirable event in her life, her eyes glowed as she touched her hand to his cheek. “Our wedding is approaching fast. Stay in your estates, in Locksley or in Huntingdon.” Her visage brightened, but her heart was apprehensive. “It is difficult to organize the wedding, but it is such a pleasant experience!”

“Marian, we cannot marry in two months,” he replied sorrowfully. She was still locked in his arms, and for a moment, they remained silent, contemplating each other. He then put into words his offer. “We can marry the next week, before my departure, or after my return.”

Her expression evolved into amazement. “Why do you want to marry so urgently, Robin?” She brushed away a strand of hair from his forehead. “We were planning a grand wedding. My father wanted to invite all my distant relatives and all the nobles from the shire. Maybe your relatives from Scotland will also come.”

“Marian…” His voice halted.

Cocking an eyebrow, she smiled at him. “Robin, we need about two months to prepare. Or do you want us to have a ceremony not befitting your high station?”

"Marian, your father is fully aware that I will be leaving England very soon. He supports my decision to wed you before my departure.”

She shot him a bemused look. “My father approves of hasty nuptials?”

“Yes, he does.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her heart lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her throat.

He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Let’s marry next week. Marian, will you become my wife, Countess of Huntingdon and Lady of Locksley?”

Marian extricated herself from his grasp. “Where are you going?”

Robin cut right to the chase. “While I was in London, I had a long conversation with King Richard.” He smiled with a charming smile that always bewitched her. “Our liege is departing to the Holy Land in a few months, and I am going to accompany him.” His voice was growing agitated. “Our liege honored me by offering to become a member of the king’s private guard.”

Her eyes went wide. “King Richard is leaving England so soon after his coronation?”

"It is indeed soon. But he will appoint a Council of Regency, consisting of his most loyal nobles, who will rule England in his absence."

A confused Marian blinked. “But King Richard has a duty to stay here, with his people!”

“He vowed that he would liberate the Holy Land and Jerusalem from the Saracens. It is our king’s sacred dream, and now he has a chance to realize it. King Philippe of France is also going on Crusade, and it will be the glorious war of the two kings!”

She was unwilling to accept the truth. “The king cannot stay?”

He shook his head. “Our liege’s conscience will not allow him to break his vow.”

“What about the king’s duty to his people? How will he leave them so soon?”

Growing angry at her incomprehension, Robin attempted to explain. “King Richard must conquer the Holy Land. This Crusade has a great religious meaning and political importance.” He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Saladin combined the Egyptian and Syrian forces under his command and employed them to reduce the Crusader States and recapture Jerusalem. Pope Gregory proclaimed that the fall of Jerusalem was punishment for the sins of Christians, and there was a call for a new Crusade.”

She arched a brow. “And?”

His face grew serious. “King Henry and King Philippe ended their conflict to lead a new Crusade. As the old king died, it is King Richard’s duty to respond to the call to arms.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “So you are intending to go to war with the king?”

He gave a nod. “Yes.”

“It is a mistake,” she commented dryly as she furiously dashed away a tear.

“It is my intention and my duty,” he replied.

She fidgeted with her fingers in a fit of anxiety. “You want to go to war, don’t you?”

With ebullient enthusiasm, her betrothed promulgated, “I have to fight alongside King Richard against the infidels!”

Marian was taken aback, her eyes glittering with ire. “What about your duty to me? We are betrothed!” Her voice rose to a crescendo, her temper flaring like a fire when coals are cast onto it. “What about your duty to your people whom you are going to abandon? You are the Earl of Huntingdon. You have a lofty title, and you own quite many prosperous estates in England. Many people serve you, and their lives depend on you.”

Robin exhorted, “Marian, try to understand me!” His brain assimilating the unpleasant turn of events once more, he pronounced, “I do know that I have a duty to you and to my people, but I cannot ignore my duty to my king and my country. I am a knight and a man of honor; I am not a coward who stays behind when his liege goes into battle.”

“What about us? We planned to marry!”

Robin stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. Gazing into her eyes, he persuaded her, “Marian, you are very important to me, but I must do my duty to the king and England.” His thumb caressed her cheek, his expression sincere and tender. “I care for you so much that I would willingly do anything for you – I would gladly die for you.”

“I am not asking you to die,” she retorted in a plaintive voice; tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “You are too young to die. I cannot even think of your death.”

“My Marian,” he murmured, smiling at her besottedly. As a tide of sweet desire washed over him, he kissed her thoroughly, their tongues waltzing to a tune as old as heaven, to a rhythm of love dictated by their hearts. Only when Marian was limp in his arms, he lifted his mouth from hers. Looking into her flushed face, he lamented in a voice colored with regret, “I don’t want to be separated from you, but I have to.”

Marian pushed him away, and averted her eyes, running them over the sunset-crimsoned clearing. Her hopes to become Robin’s wife were dying together with the sun, and a blend of dismay and anguish inundated her. As her sad eyes trained on Robin, she entreated, “Robin, please don’t go to the Holy Land. I want you to stay and wed me. Don’t deprive us of the happy future we can have together here, in Locksley.”

A smile flitted across his face. “My love, nobody will rob us of the chance to be together!”

“No, Robin!” Marian cried in a broken voice, her countenance darkened by a subliminal presentiment of doom. “War is frightful and dangerous; you might be killed in battle.”

Robin laughed off her concern. “You worry too much, Marian. Please, calm down,” he said in soothing tones. “I won’t die! I will come back, and then we will be together!”

“Don’t go,” she beseeched.

“I must,” Robin stated with a ring of finality.

Marian wrangled with Robin over his commitment to her and his people; he pontificated about duty and honor. Robin was pacing the clearing, gesticulating actively as he was trying to explain and justify his decision, but his reasons were beyond her comprehension. Truth be told, she didn’t even listen to him, her mind reeling in disbelief that he would desert her. But Robin kept telling her about the Crusade over and over again, and it dawned upon Marian that he would leave in spite of her pleas.

Robin closed the distance between them and extended his arms to wrap them around her, but she stepped out of his embrace and faced him with a belligerent gleam in her eyes. She didn’t want him to touch her anymore, for he had lost the right to be with her.

Marian demanded brusquely, “Tell me the truth, Robin. Why else are you going to Acre?”

Robin wasn’t a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, but he felt that he needed to lift the veil of his inner realm for a moment. After a moment’s dithering, he spoke calmly. “Marian, I inherited my title and lands many years ago, after my father’s death in the fire. Since then, I have been pampered, loved, and spoiled by your father and all others.” A shadow crossed his face. “I haven’t done anything to deserve the privileges I possess from birth.”

She shot him a fulminating glance. “You want glory, right?”

The thought of fame wasn’t uppermost in his mind, but Robin was unable to restrain his vainglorious nature and his thirst for adventure. “You are right; I do want glory. King Richard is a noble, fierce, and courageous warrior king.” A smile manifested on his features. “Our liege’s name will be echoing through many centuries. He will become the greatest hero in Christendom when he captures the holy city!”

An incensed Marian barely resisted the urge to slap him hard across his smug face. “You want to become a legendary general. You covet everlasting glory for yourself and fame. That’s why you are intending to leave for the Holy Land.”

He stepped to her but stopped, hesitating. “Marian, you know that Prince Richard favored me before his accession to the throne, and we became friends.”

“And because of your friendship with the king you want to leave England?”

His own temper hardly better held in than hers, Robin sighed in frustration, and his face set in a hard line. “No,” he said slowly, emphatically. “There are many reasons, Marian!”

Marian probed, “The king needs you, doesn't her?”

Robin countered, “How can I abandon my liege when he will be doing God’s work by liberating the Holy Land?” He sighed heavily.  At once enthused again, he blurted out, “King Richard praised me for my fighting skills with a bow and a sword. He himself knighted me in Poitou. I want to fight!”

“So, is it your final decision?”

"Yes," he stated firmly.

"Very well," she responded tonelessly.

Robin flashed a cheeky smile. "Will you marry me before I leave Nottingham, Marian?"

Robin looked so hopeful and so dear that she struggled against the passion building inside her. Looking at him was like drowning in a cauldron of melting heat; like trying to struggle against the current of a mountain torrent but being pulled under by invisible forces of destiny. She craved to be with his wife, but if he naively thought that she would assent to his proposal, he was mistaken. He disappointed her, and she doubted the sincerity of his feelings.

"I won't marry you, Robin of Locksley," Marian affirmed with an air of categorical denial. "You are choosing glory over having a family with me."

”Your father thinks that I should marry you before my departure. He promised that he would arrange our urgent nuptials."

“I don't care what my father says!” she shouted wrathfully, fighting the impulse to rush to him and hammer her fists into his head with a feral fury.

His features painted golden by the rays of the sinking sun, Robin looked so very young and so incredibly handsome, and she found it difficult to tear her gaze from him. She discovered that the abuses she had yearned to heap upon his head moments ago were scattering before the reality of the powerful effect he had on her. But her wounded hubris and her sensible mind were in direct and violent collision with the demands of her angry heart.

A disheartened Robin simply asked, “Is it your final decision, Marian?”

Some of her quick fury dying, Marian regarded him indecisively. She was still affronted with his actions, but her insides were melting, going molten, as she thought of the love she could throw away. Love and pride vied with one another, the latter won out as her practical little brain violently rejected his request outright. “Yes,” she confirmed.

He returned imperturbably, “You are so exasperatingly stubborn about certain things, my love. It seems that we will have to wait until my return.” He felt like the wings of his dreams were broken, like his heart was fractured. Concealing his hurt beneath a mask of arrogance, he concluded, “Then, I will marry you.”

Now Robin resembled a haughty courtier, not a young man who fascinated her and stirred in her emotions that had enthralled her and caused her to forget where she was in his presence. Her hands resting on her hips, her chin raised in defiance, her features stormy, she affirmed, “Robin of Locksley, I wish you to achieve the glory you crave.”

Loving her, wanting her, and needing the innocence, warmth, goodness, and sweetness she represented, Robin didn’t want to lose Marian. He endeavored to talk sense into her again. “Marian, I wish you to be proud of me. I attained knighthood, but it is not enough.”

“You are a fool if you believe that I need your glory, Robin.” She paused, her emotions thrown into complete confusion by his heartfelt statement. In a handful of heartbeats, her resolved solidified. “Go fight in the Holy Land with your king. I don’t care if you don’t come back from war.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

A shaken Robin gaped at her. “What?”

“I won’t wait for you,” Marian gritted out in an outburst of blinding rage.

Robin looked shocked, clearly waiting for her apology. “I don’t believe that you think so. Is it normal for you to want me dead only because I am planning to do my duty to England?”

Marian was at a loss for a moment. She knew that she was treating him rudely, but she didn’t wish to apologize; she owed him nothing. “If you want glory, then forget about me.”

“Think before you speak,” he admonished.

Her umbrage took the shape of the bubble of bitterness and fury that burst out of her as she accused, “Robin, you don’t love me as much as you have been claiming. I am breaking our betrothal. I will never marry you. The bond between us is broken irrevocably.”

Marian slipped her engagement ring off her finger. With bated breath, Robin watched her trace the silver ring featuring a massive sapphire center carved in the shape of a flower. Then, she threw the ring in his face, smiling with feigned malice, although her heart was burning to cinders. She wasn’t relieved at all, and a feeling of irretrievable loss instantaneously seized her like a vice, squeezing out of her all emotions but shame. She had loved the exquisite ring so much, and she wore it proudly; she also treasured this ring as Robin told her that it had belonged to his mother who had died giving birth to him.

Robin didn’t flinch at her ruthless actions and didn’t pick up the ring, his expression torn between cold amusement and a semblance of vexation. The wind soughed through the trees, making them rattle like bones in the hollow where his bleeding heart used to be. At the thought that she had just renounced their betrothal, Robin submerged into the night full of shudders, menaces, and woes which seemed macabre.

A heartbroken Robin felt pangs of pain knifing through his whole being. She rejected him in such a humiliating manner! His fists balled into tight balls as a blast of rage came crashing down upon him like an eagle on its prey. He pulled himself together and supplied icily, “How courteous of you, Marian! Wishing a knight to die on the battlefield is the most dignified thing which any proper lady can do. Most definitely, I won’t force you to wait for my return.”

Marian’s heart was thudding painfully against her ribs. At first, she was so amazed that she couldn’t utter a word. He was so distant and aloof! She knew he was hurting, but it was only his fault. “You will be fine on the Crusade.”

“I will,” he promised with an air of detachment.

Although Robin looked cold in the extreme, there was such endless sadness in his eyes that Marian inwardly shuddered. Once more, the voice in the back of her head mocked her that her beloved Robin had been left with deities of love and war in a moral desert and had opted for a military adventure in the Holy Land over a family life with her in Locksley.  That was the naked truth of her existence, and everything else meant nothing, Marian mused.

“Good luck, Robin,” Marian wished him, this time from the bottom of her heart. Her voice was not harsh or acrid; it was soft and gentle, like a featherlight touch of a lover. The charm of her voice did not fail to convey her real thoughts – she wished him to come back alive.

Steeling herself against the guilt that overwhelmed her, she pivoted and stalked away from her first love, disappearing among the trees, where the sun had just dipped below the hill. The sunset would probably forever be a symbol of Marian’s rejection for Robin, together with the ring she had returned him. The curtain of darkness draped itself over the forest, casting Robin’s soul into the opaque void of the universe.

Robin's face twisted in pain mingled with despair as he watched her mount and ride away. Pain percolated him to the very depths of his heart, to the most hidden recesses of his mind. He crouched and picked up the ring; he straightened his spine, staring at the ring in his palm.

Marian didn’t understand Robin, but it was partly his fault as his pride prevented him from revealing to her that he had chosen war in order to prove to everyone and, most importantly, to himself that he was a strong man who deserved respect and love of his king and the people. He was sure that fighting for England and the king would help him achieve that. For a split second, Robin regretted that he hadn’t told Marian the truth, but he swiftly banished that thought. He couldn’t show his inner insecurities and fears to the world and even to Marian.

His spirit as leaden as smoke from a chimney, Robin placed the ring into the pocket of his doublet. He swiveled and strode towards his horse that was tied to a tree on the other side of the clearing. He hopped into the saddle and galloped away, cloaked in an aura of sorrow and woes. His relationship with Marian had been over, and now he had to think about war and the king. Wishing to put the distance between Marian and him, Robin departed from Nottingham in haste the next day after their meeting in the woods.

Dreams of the two young lovers and their hopes for the future were shattered; they were smashed against the walls of reality. They would probably never see each other again, and their betrothal was over thanks to Marian’s outburst. Deities of love – mute, sullen, and portentous – sent a gust of wind through the woods, a mournful echo of their broken hearts. Yet, their love was stronger than death and would always live in the greenery of Sherwood.

§§§

Lost in her memories, Marian was trembling all over in anxiety mingled with fear and sorrow. She continued brooding over her relationship with Robin. Robin had left for the Holy Land more than seven years ago, and they had parted a bad note. Even now, after so many years, she didn’t forget the pain that Robin’s selfish decision had inflicted on her young, tender heart. Robin had broken her heart, and his decision had injured her pride. She had been angry at him throughout many years. Yet, she had secretly feared that Robin could have been killed in the Holy Land and that she would never see him again.

Over time, she had been unable to completely forget her first love for the young boy who had once chased after her across the fields and had taken her on his wild adventures in the woods. She had missed him terribly, remembering the happy moments they had spent together in Sherwood, Knighton, and Locksley. She had also remembered Much, Robin’s loyal manservant, who had grown up with them and had always been their companion in their mischievous games. She had often wept in the solitude of her bedroom over her shattered dreams to become Robin’s wife.

Every day Marian had fervently prayed for his survival in the bloody war and for his safe return, though she would have never told about that even to her father. And one day her prayers had been answered: she had seen Robin on the front steps of Knighton Hall. As soon as her gaze fell on Robin, she had realized that she hadn’t forgotten him. Great relief had coursed through her as he had returned alive and not crippled, looking even too handsome for a battle-hardened Crusader. She had known then that she had still loved him, though she hadn’t welcomed him with open arms.

After Robin had saved four innocent men and had been outlawed, Marian had agreed to become his spy on the sheriff and Gisborne. They had been involved in many risky plans, working together to undermine Vaisey’s authority in the most extraordinary and unprecedented ways. Robin had acted openly as Robin Hood and she had helped him in the shadows as his spy, also taking care of the people as the Nightwatchman. They had also worked to stop the Black Knights and thwart the sheriff’s treacherous plans to kill King Richard.

In some time, Robin and Marian had reconciled. Marian’s old affection for her childhood love had revived and blossomed, but there had been so many obstacles between them that it had seemed God didn’t wish them to be together, or perhaps not in this life. Marian had already developed a deep affection for Guy of Gisborne, which hadn’t perished after Robin's return. As a result, she found herself torn between Robin and Guy, although she had never told Robin about that.

Marian had thought that she had loved Robin with all her heart, and she had believed that he had also loved her. Every time they had thought of what they had lost in the years of their separation, they had felt as though they had fallen into emptiness, with pain and regret roaring around them. She had been happy when he had finally proclaimed his love for her, even if he had done that in an extremely strange fashion: he had confessed in his feelings when she had asked him to spare Allan’s life despite his betrayal, saying that she didn’t want him to taint their love with the traitor’s blood. She had rejoiced that Robin had finally been candid with her.

Robin had given Marian an engagement ring featuring a large oval cut emerald surrounded by a sunburst of diamonds. She had liked it, but it was large and rather extravagant, while she had liked something more elegant; yet, she had treasured the ring because it was Robin’s ring.

Robin had proposed to her in the strangest and most eccentric fashion – over a fresh grave of the king’s one-legged messenger who had arrived in Locksley only to find out that Robin had been outlawed and had lived in the forest; the messenger had escaped from Locksley, pursued by Gisborne's guards and Allan, one of whom had mortally wounded him.

Marian and Robin had agreed that _they would find Lardner, a Sultan's prized bird, warn King Richard about the Black Knights, defeat the sheriff, and then get married_. They had managed to contact King Richard, informing him about his brother's intentions to steal his throne and hoping that he would return to England. Yet, that was all they did together, and everything else would always be a dream, for the siege had changed everything as Marian's marriage to Guy made their life paths diverge.

Marian sighed as her mind drifted back to one of the most tragic days in her life. Several months ago, her father, Sir Edward Fitzwalter of Knighton, had been killed by the Canon of Birkley after they had taken the Pact of Nottingham from Vaisey’s bedroom. It should have been the day of the great victory for them, for they had finally had the proof of the Black Knights’ treacherous plots against the king in their possession. Yet, it had become the day of the great defeat.

Robin had offered Marian to leave the castle, and they had ridden off into the sunset into the woods. Not wishing the outlaws to see her in a state of distress and despair, she had asked Robin to spend some time alone, and they had headed to the heart of Sherwood, to their favorite clearing.

On the way to the forest, Marian had been fighting off tears that had threatened to spill down her cheeks. As soon as they had dismounted and she had recognized where he had taken her, a nostalgic feeling had gripped her, and the tears had finally won. Trembling all over, she had broken into heart-wrenching sobs. In one swift movement, Robin's strong arms had enveloped her into a hearty, comforting embrace. She shut her eyes and let anguished sobs escape her, repeating her father's name over and over again as she wept.

In an ominous silence, they had sat under a meadow, her face buried into the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped around her waist. It had been such a grueling and dreadful day, and she had been incredibly sad. Soon her sobs had become quieter, but she didn't speak, luxuriating in a warm feeling of contentment spreading through her and the feel of his hand gently stroking the top of her head. She had always hated being weak, but it had been the day when she could do nothing with herself; she had been relieved that Robin had been with her that evening.

“I like Sherwood so much,” Robin whispered. He smiled as her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder. “The forest is like a dream world for me. When I see the woods stretching all around me like the sea, I feel that I am free and happy.” He swallowed heavily. “I can even forget that I fought in the Holy Land, that I saw so many horrors, and that I killed many people there.”

Marian lifted her eyes to his face. “You have always liked the forest, and we spent much time here in childhood.” She sighed as she felt his lips on the tender spot behind her ear.

“Yes, we did.” He smiled languidly.

She enjoyed that he hugged her tightly. “Our early youth was a golden time – carefree and happy.”

Suddenly, Robin felt exposed and vulnerable, highly aware of today’s events, and he stiffened involuntarily, his one hand hugging Marian, the other sliding to the hilt of his scimitar. “And yet, the forest is the harsh reality for you, for me, and everyone in Robin Hood’s gang.”

“Yes.” She combed her ﬁngers through her hair.

He sighed. “We have to live here until the sheriff is deposed.” His head dropped on the top of her head as if he were crushed by despair. “Every time I have a moment of loneliness in the woods, I remember that we have a lot of work to do and that I must be strong to help the people, unmask the sheriff’s plots against the king, and protect you and my friends.”

Looking at Marian’s beautiful, tear-stained face, he felt desire stir in his loins, and he pulled her to him, then kissed her on her lips. Although she had been weeping before, now she was overwhelmed, beyond a conscious thought, and she responded to his kiss. Her mouth opened under his and for one sweet moment, as he held her so tightly, the world snuffed out. There was only this man, this girl, and the woods around, and nothing else existed. But then Robin broke the kiss and, smiling at her, leaned back against the trunk of a tree; he wrapped his arms around her, and she relaxed into his embrace.

“Robin,” Marian called his name after a long pause, a quiet whisper so filled with anguish that Robin's heart constricted in his chest.

"Shhh," Robin said softly, stroking her hair. "You are not alone – I am with you."

She took a deep steadying breath, willing herself not to cry. She exhaled sharply and pressed the back of her hand against her eyes, but tears were still flooding out of her eyes like a waterfall. "I told my father that he should have been helping us." She swallowed hard. "I said that he was weak and that I was ashamed of him."

He cupped her face, looking into her eyes. “He loved you, Marian. He was proud of you.”

Biting her bottom lip, she blinked. “You think so?”

“Yes,” he assured her. "Your father died for England and for King Richard. He is a true hero."

"But he died," she murmured.

He brushed her lips with his in a tender yearning, then planted a kiss on her smooth forehead. “Marian, I am sorry that I didn’t save him. I should have predicted that the Canon of Birkley would try to kill me. I should have shot this traitor before he attacked me and your father made a desperate attempt to save me, in the end only being killed.”

"It is not your fault," Marian said.

 “You really don’t blame me, do you?” He looked hopeful.

“No, I don’t.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, skimming his ﬁngers through the dark tresses of her long, glossy hair.

“Don’t blame yourself for what you are not responsible for.” She pressed her forehead to his chest.

Robin shut his eyes. "You are breathtakingly beautiful, Marian." His voice was a deep, low baritone. "I fear that if I open my eyes, it will be a dream and you won't be with me."

A dejected Marian lifted her gaze at him. "I am glad that you are here."

"I want you to stay with me in the woods, my love."

Robin kissed the nape of her head. She raised her watery eyes and stared at him, her own face splashing into a lovely smile in the response to the tender smile she saw on his face. She glanced into his eyes, and what she saw there, the intensity, made her heart beat faster. He bent his head down and captured her lips with his. Her eyes closed as she let him take her mouth and then he kissed her throat, and her lips once again. Urgently, her body held tight to his, and she enjoyed his kisses coming faster and faster, deeper and harder – until her blood hammered so noisily she felt she would faint.

Marian trembled, feeling as if her heart would crash through her thorax or stop altogether. Emotions – passion, despair, curiosity, and pain – overwhelmed her to the core, and she lost herself in his strong arms, knowing that his one kiss could take away all her pain and anguish.

"I want to forget about everything," she murmured, gazing into his eyes darkened in passion.

Robin broke the kiss and smiled at her. "I would love to be alone with you in the whole world." Then he slightly pulled away and looked at her, mesmerized by and the beauty of her sapphire blue eyes brimming with tears.

Marian glanced away. "You know that we cannot be together now."

He sighed regretfully. "I know. We have to wait until the king returns."

"Until the king returns," she echoed.

A short silence followed. Enjoying the moment immensely, Robin lowered his eyes and had taken in her appearance. Her face was sweetly flushed, the shimmering sapphire blue eyes large and expressive, and her soft mouth was far too appealing.

She smiled at him lovingly, and her hand stroked his cheek. "Why are you staring at me so?"

He let out a quiet laugh. "I like what I see."

“You do?” Her voice quivered.

He chuckled. “Today you definitely look better than on the day of my return to Nottingham when I came to Knighton and you threatened to shoot me from your bow if I didn’t leave.”

She smiled. "Well, one day you will pay, Robin of Locksley!"

Robin stared down at her, smiling with a tender, loving smile. She rarely saw such a sincere smile on his face, for he usually grinned wickedly and flashed his cheeky smiles here and there, teasing and mocking everyone. But now his expression was absolutely unguarded and sincere.

He smiled at her affectionately. "You are so beautiful. You are even more beautiful than in my dreams."

She gave him her most dazzling smile. "You are also beautiful, my handsome Lord of Locksley."

"Too beautiful," Robin said huskily, an enigmatic smile on his lips. "Dangerously beautiful."

Her fingers were moving through his hair and down his neck. "Robin," she stretched out his name, as if he were savoring the words on her tongue. "Oh, Robin…"

His lips met hers in a deep, hungry kiss while his fingers wandered over her palms. "God in Heaven, Marian," he said breathlessly, feeling dizziness overcome him. "Marian…"

"Yes?" she whispered breathlessly.

Robin kissed her for a long, long time, each kiss more passionate, more explicit, and more possessive. His hands roamed over her body, heat and hunger burning through him, driving him half mad with need. He had probably never been more aroused in his life, for it was the first time when he and Marian were so close to losing their sanity in each other’s arms. He knew that he had to stop now, or he would be unable to control himself soon. His hunger for her made him bold and relentless, wanting to give her pleasure and comfort, but then he stopped and pulled away.

“Marian…” he said cautiously.

Marian looked almost hurt with his actions, for her disappointment was acute. She pulled him to her and kissed him on the lips, her hands clutching the collar of his shirt. Robin moaned and kissed her back, the vibration from the sound multiplying her enjoyment.

Between kisses, they looked at each other, trying to put a name on whatever it was burning up the air between them, and Robin again thought that they needed to stop. He saw that she wanted him, needed him at that moment. He had wanted her desperately for so long, not because he hadn’t been with a woman for a long time but because she was Marian and he loved her.

His eyes darkened when he heard her breath quicken. “This cannot continue this way.”

“Robin,” Marian whispered. Then she put her right hand under his shirt, caressing his warm flesh.

His lips were a breath from hers, his heart thundering. "Are you sure?"

She felt his lips, firm and tender, brushing against hers. "I cannot be alone. Not today."

"Marian," he groaned.

She kissed him on the mouth, and he kissed her back. He slightly pushed her back against the tree and continued kissing her, his lips traveling down her alabaster throat.

Counter to his actions, he tore his mouth away from hers. “Marian,” he panted. “Are you absolutely, positively sure this is what you want?”

“I want this, Robin,” she told him with utter and complete confidence. “I want us to be together.”

For a long time, he didn’t respond, looking into her eyes as if he were searching there for the answer to a very important question; he was hesitating to proceed to a full intercourse. She also remained silent, annoyed that he wanted to be reassured, once and for all. In an instant, he smiled at her, the sort of smile that let her know he had already made up his mind.

He pressed his hand more insistently against her back and moved his mouth from hers to brush his lips over her jaw and her cheek and her chin, then nuzzling the sensitive flesh where her throat joined her collarbone. Then he captured her lips with his, and kissed her slowly, achingly, again and again until he heard her make a sound - a sigh, a tiny breath of sensual pleasure.

Robin drew away slightly, again. “Marian, do you understand what we are about to do?”

Surprised and dumbfounded with his question, Marian stared at him, her heart pounding harder and harder. She wanted him and needed him, for he was able to give a feeling of her security and become her shelter from pain. And she made up her mind.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I need you.”

He wrapped her arms around her shoulders and held her tightly. “You cannot imagine how much I want you, Marian. I have never wanted any other woman as much as I want you now.”

They stared at each other intently for a few seconds. She licked her already moist lips and left them parted. His eyes focused on them, and then he quickly but smoothly took her face in his hands, pulling her closer and then covering her lips with his. Then, between kisses and caresses, Robin threw his cloak on the grass, and she lay back there, inviting him to join her. They hastily discarded their clothes, lay on the ground, and gave themselves to love.

Robin rolled over on top of her, settling himself between her legs, and Marian glanced into his eyes as he gently invaded into her body, giving her his most tender and most charming smile. She barely noticed a brief prickle of pain, astonished that it went so smoothly and almost without pain. He filled her to the brink, in a way she had never felt full before, and she moaned in delight at the sense of completion that flooded her. Robin had paused, not moving and staring at her, and she stared back at him in astonishment. Then he bent his head and kissed her again, long and hard and deep.

They felt a fire burning in their blood, their bodies aching for physical release. Deep, powerful ache coursed through their bodies, and they plunged into dark, pleasurable oblivion. With every penetration, they joined more completely, until one final, hurtling thrust resulted in the pinnacle as their world exploded into a crescendo of colors and pleasure. He collapsed beside her and held her close, burying his face in the curve where her shoulder met her neck.

Quietly, she said, “Are we really together, or is it just a dream?”

He nuzzled her hair affectionately again. “It is our beautiful dream,” he told her.

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “It was–” Her words halted there, however, because he kissed her.

Robin smiled down at her. "It is alright. It won't hurt the next time," he promised. He kissed her again, but only briefly. He tore his lips away from hers with excruciating slowness, catching her lower lip between his teeth and tugging gently. Then, with a last luscious lick of his tongue, he drew back.

"Well," Marian drawled, with a small smile on her lips swollen from his kisses. "I don’t have much experience in this, but, in all fairness, I think that you are a good kisser."

"Correction," Robin said with a smug smile on his face. "I am the best kisser."

"Robin," she breathed his name.

"I do love you, Marian," he whispered as he ran his arms over the curves and planes of her body.

"I love you, too." Marian's arms encircled his back.

Driven the deep feeling of her love for Robin, but perhaps more by the urgent need to take away her pain and despair in the moment of weakness, Marian had let him take her maidenhead in the depths of the forest, breaching the rules of proper conduct for a noblewoman.

What had happened between them in the woods had been never repeated while Marian had lived in the forest. She and Robin had been friendly and affectionate and often amorous, but they hadn’t been together again. She had felt that it had been the right thing to stay physically away from Robin, and he hadn’t reminded her of the only time when they had forgotten about the world in each other’s arms. She had spent several weeks in Sherwood, but, eventually, she had gone back to the castle; at that moment she had already been engaged to Robin.

After her return to the castle, many things had changed, for Marian had realized that she hadn’t wanted to live in the forest, even with Robin. The bitter feeling of dissatisfaction with her relationship had suddenly entered her life. Her clandestine encounters with Robin in the woods, in the castle, or somewhere in the town hadn’t been enough for her happiness, the king had been away and it hadn’t been clear when he would come back. With Robin, her future had seemed uncertain, and she had feared that they would never be able to marry and have a normal life.

§§§

There was another man in Marian’s life that made her heart leap – Sir Guy Crispin Fitzcorbet of Gisborne. Guy was the only man who greatly attracted her and for whom, in spite of all his faults and troubles he could deliver so freely, she still retained affection, respect, admiration and desire to trust him. Yet, she denied the existence of her affection for him for so long.

Marian admitted, only to herself and reluctantly, that she had felt guilty of betraying Guy when she had accepted Robin's marriage proposal and especially after her recent experience with Robin in the woods. She had been very disappointed with herself that she had had to lead a double life and pretend that she had been interested in Guy as much as he was in her, though, truth be told, it hadn’t been a show of pure pretense because she had been really affected by Guy's attention to her.

Her mind traveled to the moment that had distanced her further from Robin. In several weeks after her return to the castle, Marian and Robin had met near the same meadow in the forest. As always, Robin had been happy to see her, flashing his familiar cheeky smiles, laughing and teasing her. Marian had been delighted to see him, too, enjoying every minute they could have spent together in the woods, in isolation from the whole word that conspired to separate them.

Robin scooped her into his arms. "Marian, I love you," he said in a shaking voice. "You mean so much to me. I cannot imagine what I will do if I lose you." His voice died away and he kissed her on the lips. "My most cherished dream is to marry you."

He felt her body stiffen in his arms, and then she tried to twist her head away. Startled by her unexpected protest, Robin immediately dropped his arms to his sides, and, half-sobbing, she moved away from him.

"Marian, what happened?" He sounded astonished.

Her cheeks burning, she stared at him, embarrassment flooding her. "We cannot marry, Robin," she said stonily.

He laughed lightly. "My love, I would be happy to marry you tomorrow." He stepped to her and took her trembling hands in his. "We don't need to wait until the king returns. I can try to find a priest who will marry us."

Her expression troubled, Marian gazed at him. "Robin, I don't think that you understand me… We cannot marry now when we can die every moment and every day. We have to wait." She drew a deep breath, seeking more arguments against his words. "Besides, no priest will marry us."

He prevented her from speaking by placing a finger against her lips. "I will think of something." He smiled. "I will find a priest. Someone will be ready to marry Robin Hood and his lady."

She shook her head. "We cannot, Robin. The king is not here."

He nodded. "I realize that the timing is not perfect, but we are better to marry right now."

"Why, Robin?"

"We are betrothed, and we… have been waiting for so long."

Marian felt her blood boiling; she still didn't feel comfortable with what they had recently done. "Are you mad? We cannot marry now. What our life will be like?"

Robin stared at her incredulously. "We are betrothed. We love each other."

"We are engaged, but we… cannot marry now," she replied abruptly.

"As you wish," Robin conceded, resigned. He took a step to her and then pulled her to him. "But I am ready to face a horde of savages intent upon my demise in order to be with you."

She frowned angrily. "I think I will leave now. I must return to the castle."

"You want to leave me?"

"I cannot be absent for so long," she explained.

He sighed. "Well, I understand, but I don’t want to let you go." He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding into her mouth and dueling with hers.

She struggled to push him away. "Stop, please stop," she said impatiently.

He looked bewildered. "Are you alright? What did I do wrong?"

"I am fine, Robin. I think I should leave."

Robin looked hurt. "I think I don't deserve such harsh treatment."

"You deserved it many years ago. You often deserve it even now."

"What?" he asked incredulously.

Her temper spiked and, her eyes bright with anger, she pointed her finger at him. "I just don't know what you will do after we are married."

"What do you mean?"

"I am not sure that you will stay in Locksley if the king asks you, you will go to fight another war," Marian said straightforwardly. “Once you chose the king over me. I fear it may happen again.”

Robin sighed in frustration. "I thought we have already discussed that," he replied calmly. "It was my duty to follow my liege to war. I am his vassal and swore my fealty to him." He had told her the same many years ago. And yet, there were many noble and chivalrous reasons why he had decided to fight in the Holy Land.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, you had to do your duty to England and the king.”

Robin's eyes darkened in anger. "All the years in the Holy Land were difficult and bloodthirsty. I wanted glory, but I realized that the battlefield is the last place you will find it." He sighed deeply. "But I cannot deny that I had to join the Crusade, though I regret I went to war and that I lost you.”

“To do your duty,” she said with a sigh.

“Yes," Robin said confidently; there was no trace of doubt in his voice. "And I did a lot for King Richard. I protected him and saved his life many times, and I did that very well, for I managed to keep our king alive and almost unscratched after five years of non-stop fighting. So many people wanted to kill Richard, and it was my duty to protect him."

Robin of Locksley acted in a typical fashion. He bragged, giving a long list of his heroic deeds he had done for King Richard and for England in the Holy Land, although he acknowledged that he had committed horrible crimes in the name of God and for the glory of the king. Marian knew that Robin had been the king's grand favorite on the Crusade, but she disliked how he presented that – by highlighting that he was the king's close friend, trustworthy and devoted, loyal to his liege even in death. He positioned himself as the king's man and the people's hero, but she questioned whom Robin served more – the King of England or the people.

She held his gaze. "You did many great things for King Richard. He is still alive mainly thanks to you, and nobody can deny that.”

He smiled haughtily. “Exactly.”

She looked away. "Yet, Robin, you abandoned me and the people to fight the war that cannot be won and for the king who prefers to fight bloody wars thousands of miles away. Now you are turning a blind eye to the lack of the king's interest in England and in his people."

Marian was loyal to the rightful King of England, but she didn't idolize him. Unlike her, Robin viewed Richard only as a hero and was proud of his close relationship with the king. She was increasingly irritated with Robin's blind, unconditional loyalty to the absent monarch. The constant talk about the king, Robin's loyalty to him, and Guy's role in regicide infuriated her. It seemed to her that Robin had thought at first about the king and England and only then about her, a woman whom he loved but still deserted, choosing the king and glory over their love.

He gave her a furious glare. "Never say that about King Richard!" His face fell as the thought struck him. "You are talking about our king like… Gisborne…"

"I am stating the truth," she parried.

His face turned ghostly pale, and he shut his eyes for a moment. He felt mortified and bitterly disappointed to hear her words. "I sacrificed my love to do my duty to the king and England. I sacrificed my titles and lands to help the people," he declared with pride.

“Sweet Heaven,” she murmured, annoyed at the repetitive drill he always sang. “You have told me about that many times.”

Robin glanced away. “I want you to remember one thing: I am not going to tolerate insults towards the King of England and your resentment towards me because of my loyalty to him."

“Robin,” she said in soothing tones, “I admire you for your kind, brave, and compassionate nature.”

Robin’s expression softened. “I cannot watch the people being oppressed and forced to live in tyranny.”

She let out a tiny smile. “But we are helping the people as much as we can.”

“But the people like Gisborne always stand in our way of helping the poor.”

“The sheriff is viler than Gisborne.” She shot him an irritated look. “If the king hadn’t left for the Holy Land so soon after the coronation, the sheriff wouldn’t have taken my father’s offices.”

“Why are you always defending Gisborne?” Robin took a deep breath, feeling anger stir in his heart. "Gisborne is a wretched traitor who doesn’t deserve to live.”

She made a face. “Robin, please stop.”

“No, I won’t,” Robin fired back. “Gisborne is a monster!” His gaze turned so hateful that she glanced away. “He is unable to think about others. He is obsessed only with power and wealth. He is a murderer and a villain. There is nothing good in him, and his heart is entirely black and evil."

Marian gave Robin a hard glare. She had enough of arrogance and bravado. "And you think that you are a better man than Guy of Gisborne?" she taunted, too angry to watch her tongue. "You are always saying that Guy is an evil man and a traitor, but you don't know him at all.” She raised her voice. “He is not what he seems at first glance. He can become a better man."

Robin’s eyes blazed with anger. "You have no right to compare me with Gisborne!" he shouted in rage. "I am a loyal subject of the king and an honest man! Gisborne is a murderer of many innocent people and a foul traitor to the crown!” His face contorted in disgust. “We are very different!"

Scoffing at his expression of outrage, Marian spoke accusingly. "You are the king's loyal man and subject, but that doesn't make you loyal to your people whom you deserted for five years. Your people were oppressed and starved whilst you earned your glory in the Holy Land and killed the Saracens."

He struggled to keep the hot, angry words that crowded his throat from spewing forth, but he failed. "Good God!" he finally burst out. "You don't know what I lived through! You don't know how much I sacrificed to keep our king alive! It was not only about glory!"

"Robin, I admire you for your staunch loyalty to the king, and I fear I cannot imagine how much you endured in the Holy Land," she replied flatly. "But it was your own choice. Everything is a choice."

He lowered his head, and a mirthless chuckle came from him. He slowly raised his eyes to her and looked into her eyes. "I was mistaken that war would make me a man. Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime." He sighed. "It was my choice to join the Crusade, and if I had to choose again, I would probably do the same, just because I had to protect the king and because I wanted to bring some humanity in the foreign lands destroyed by death and bloodshed."

Annoyed and angry, she clenched her fists. "You love the king more than me and your people. And don't say that you have never wanted glory and recognition; I know that you do many things to satisfy your selfish desire to be loved by the people."

He arched a brow. "You think so?"

"Yes, I do," she said brusquely. "What you have done for the king and England is admirable, and I am sure that nobody else can do that. But you have deserted your people and me, and I wonder whether one day it may happen again." She sighed heavily. "Guy doesn't have the qualities that drove you, Robin, away from home, to the king's side."

Red-hot anger pounded like lava through his body, beating back any common sense he might have possessed. Robin came to her, and his hands closed around her upper arms as he dragged her against him. "Why are you bringing Gisborne into our conversation? What do you feel for him?"

She shook her head, both terrified and annoyed. "Nothing. Nothing." She felt a strange tremor of half fright, half pleasure coursing through her at the sound of Guy's name.

“Remember, Marian, that you should never compare me with Gisborne,” Robin said in a low voice that held no trace of humor.

They fumed, argued, and shouted, being embroiled in a heated and sarcastic argument that threatened to explode into a serious conflict. In the end, Marian walked away from Robin without saying goodbye to him, and he had willingly let her go. The verbal battle exhausted each of them.

After their quarrel in the forest, Robin sneaked into her bedroom the next evening. They talked only for several minutes: he inquired about the sheriff's plans and then tried to reconcile with Marian. She was disappointed that he had seemed to have been much more interested in the sheriff's plans and schemes than in their personal situation. He didn’t even apologize for the pestering and pompous speeches that had been the reason for their argument during their previous meeting.

They didn’t have much time to talk because Marian was expected to attend the feast in the great hall, together with Vaisey and Gisborne, as well as with some other nobles from the shire. She asked Robin to leave to avoid being discovered in case Guy came to her bedroom to escort her downstairs for the evening. Robin was jealous again, and they again argued. Then Guy came, and she distracted him to let Robin escape.

After the dinner, Marian discovered Robin in her bedroom. They discussed the sheriff's plans regarding taxes collection, and then Marian requested him to leave. She said that she didn't want him to be captured in her bedchamber, risking his life and safety again. In response, Robin only laughed and said that such a death would be stupid; Marian was again upset with him.

Marian looked at Robin. "If death in my bed is stupid, then what kind of death is not stupid?"

“I mean that death will be stupid if I am caught before I married you and saved the king.”

She sighed tiredly. “And which way of dying is not stupid?”

Robin grinned at her. "The most honorable death is to die for King Richard, for England, and for you, Marian, if I am saving your life or the king’s life," he responded with devilish confidence.

At that instant, Marian was ready to scream. The king again stood between them.

"Oh," she breathed.

Robin wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her temple. Then he glanced into her eyes, tenderly smiling at her. "We are fighters, my Marian,” he said emphatically. “I have always preferred a death in battle to a death in my own bed. The most honorable death is death for what you believe in and what you love – death for the king, England, and you."

Marian gave him a long, scrupulous look. "Robin, we are fighters, and I enjoy fighting for justice. But I am still a woman," she began. "A woman lives most of her life in a man-made world – at first in her father's world, then her husband's, and finally her son's. By her son's grace and with his permission, she continues living in one of his estates if her husband dies before her. And in our life, a husband often dies in a war before a woman."

"I know how easy death may come; I was fighting for five years and had many chances to die."

She closed her eyes, willing Robin to understand where she was going, but he didn't. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him. "We women feel things differently than you men do."

Robin smiled. "Women and men are not as different as you may think. Women take everything to their hearts, and so do many men."

Marian laid her finger against his lips to silence him when he started speaking. "No, Robin. Don't say anything. Just listen to me."

"Alright."

"I know that you survived terrible horrors, and I am happy that you came back alive. But you seem to think that I know less sorrow or pain than you. Yet, I had my share of pain when you were away. There are things that you don't know about me, like how I felt during these long five years. And don't forget what I went through without you."

"What do you want to say?"

"You love the king too much."

"Richard is my king and my friend," Robin declared proudly, his chin high, his eyes shining.

Anger simmered in her blood, and she suddenly wanted to lash out at him. She clamped her lips tightly, reclaiming her self-control. "His favorite," she said.

Failing to notice her anger, Robin shrugged nonchalantly. "If the king's friend might be called so, then I am a royal favorite. People say I am the king's grand favorite."

"Is that a reason why you love the king so much? Because you are his favorite and friend?" Her voice was devoid of her real emotions, but inside she seethed with anger.

"We must respect our lord and sovereign."

"Love and respect are different things, Robin."

Robin's face evolved into hardness. "I know."

"Oh, Robin."

"What?"

"Why are you so madly and so passionately loyal to Richard?"

Marian could easily guess that a sense of angry impotence had filled Robin at her question. He hated when someone not only questioned his loyalty to Richard but also pointed that he was extreme in his loyalty."Are you angry with me that I harbor a deep affection for our king?"

"I want to understand why Richard always comes first," she said calmly.

"Marian, it is difficult to explain," he responded quietly. "Richard played a prominent role in my life. He is England! And he is my king and my friend." He smiled. "If you saw Richard's attitude to me, you would understand reasons for my devotion to the king much better."

"Possibly yes."

Robin grinned, his expression sheepish. "Yeah, Richard… he is just Richard!"

"Robin, I don't want to be let down again."

His eyes widened with disbelief. "Why do you think so?"

"The king has a great influence on you, and he can take you from me again," she pointed out.

"Touché, Marian," Robin responded, laughing. "Please just don’t ask me whom I love more, for I would laugh very hard then." He smiled. “My love for you and for the king is different."

She released her breath in a hiss of frustration. "Of course."

There was a joyful glint in his blue eyes. "Aren't you jealous to King Richard?"

"Of course, no," she said, hiding her disappointment.

Marian remained perfectly still, masking her displeasure and exulting in the sensation of his strong, warm hands hugging hers. He didn’t understand her words, either perceiving them as a joke or feigning confusion, and it saddened her. Not wishing to argue, she allowed him to kiss her again. Later Robin left the castle; he escaped undetected, despite the fact thin the castle was humming with activity in the light of the feast nobles had in the great hall on that evening.

Marian was becoming more despondent as she attempted to analyze the conflict of loyalties between Robin’s loyalty to the king and his love for her. The king, Robin, and she were always together in Robin's world. She often wondered what place she occupied in the hierarchy of loyalties in Robin’s life – higher or lower than the king and the country. Whom did he love more – her or the king?

The next several days were routine. Marian had only one spontaneous encounter with Robin Hood on the market square. Later Sheriff Vaisey disappeared from Nottingham, which resulted in her near-death experience when Guy was by her side.

That day, when they were so close to death, Guy begged Marian to marry him on his knees. Guy told her what she had always wanted to hear from Robin: _he said that he had wished to be there for her, to spend their last minutes together, to die together, only with her_. There was no reference to the king and England, to the salvation of the most humble souls – _the only words spoken were about dying for her and near her_. To her utter shame, his words pleased Marian, melting her heart.

In contrast to her relationship with Robin, the King of England didn't stand between Marian and Guy, and she liked that very much. That was an important reason why she hadn't reject Guy's proposal. She was impressed and moved that Guy was ready to die only for her and with her, while he had an opportunity to escape. Guy proved that death for her was more important for him that death for the king and England.

When Robin brought the sheriff back to Nottingham from Sherwood, Guy smiled malevolently at the outlaw as he announced that he and Marian had married right before Robin's arrival. Will had already mysteriously disappeared, probably suspecting what she had done and condemning her for her actions.

Guy was happy that he had triumphed over Robin as he had taken everything from the former Lord of Locksley, leaving Robin defeated and heartbroken. Marian knew that she would never forget Robin's face at that moment: his eyes widened, his lips thinned, his facial muscles tensed. Then Robin feigned indifference, and his face broke into a usual cheeky grin, cool and teasing. He mocked them that they had chosen a very uncomfortable time for the wedding, hinting at the lack of white attire and the general mourning atmosphere in the town.

Robin pretended that he was insufferable, as if nothing could hurt him, and it goaded Marian into fury. Even though she understood that Robin had masterfully hidden his true feelings, it still infuriated her because this mask distanced her from him, depriving her of a chance to look into his naked soul. She always wanted him to be frank with her, but he had never opened up his heart to her entirely. In critical moments, he reverted to his old tactics of playing an invincible hero, whilst she wanted to see at least some natural emotion from him. It was so difficult to understand Robin!

§§§

Marian looked at the window but there was only the inky darkness outside. It was very late, and she expected Guy to come to her bedroom very soon. She hated the very idea of spending the wedding night in Robin’s old room. Now the agony was coming to the surface, overcoming the temptation to run away, and, in her misery, Marian couldn’t say which torment was the greater at that moment: the thought of her upcoming wedding night or that of her betrayal of Robin's love for her.

Her solitude gave her time to grieve and think about the recent events. The memories of her last conversation with Robin haunted her with persistence only possible under some divine power. After Guy's declaration of their marriage, Robin sneaked into her bedroom in the castle, before her supposed wedding night at Locksley Manor.

As Robin had looked at Marian, she shuddered in shock – his beautiful pale blue eyes were icily cold and yet unbelievably bright. There was no warmth in his eyes at all. He asked whether Guy had lied about their wedding. As she confirmed that she had become Lady Gisborne, she felt the arctic chilliness emanating from her young handsome lover. She knew that he felt betrayed and was hurting, as though she had stabbed him in his heart with her vile, insidious betrayal.

Robin glanced at Marian, his gaze cold and hard. At the confirmation that Marian had indeed married Guy, his mind went blank and unbearable pain smote him. His heart was bleeding. He was devastated. "Why did you do that, Marian? Why?" He shook his head. "I don't understand you."

"I thought that we would not survive the siege," she said quietly.

His face evolved into confusion. "What?"

She saw his eyes widen in amazement, but only for a moment, for he made a swift recovery of his face to coldness. "I was scared. I thought that you would not come and that we would die," she elaborated.

"You were afraid of death?" Robin asked, with a great uneasiness.

"Yes," she said truthfully. She felt the chill of his low, tense voice, and shuddered. "You are not afraid of death?"

"I got accustomed to death many years ago."

"In the Holy Land?"

He gave a curt nod. "Yes."

"Then you should understand my fear," she pointed out.

Robin's reaction surprised her – he merely laughed. He laughed, elegantly flicking dust from the sleeve of his green shirt, as though he had been unperturbed by her confession. "Oh, if you fear death, then you are less courageous than I thought," he said.

She sighed. "You, who fought the bloody war in the Holy Land where you could have been killed many times over and where you faced death every day and everywhere; you who returned from the Crusade promising peace after the fight with the sheriff is over; how is it that, nevertheless, that you cannot admit that I can be afraid of death, afraid of dying alone, without a chance to see you one last time?" She was affected by his reaction.

Robin felt the force and justice of the remark, but he couldn't admit his faults aloud. "Your marriage to Gisborne is no ordinary case. No fear of death can explain why you married this monster."

Marian shook her head. "You want to pretend that nothing can hurt you, but it is a mask. I did the same for a long time, taking an example from you. But now I want to take this chance and confess: I was so frightened during the siege that I was paralyzed by this fear, and I couldn’t think straight."

"Death is like a snake among flowers. It comes to you on tiptoes, when you don't expect it," Robin retorted philosophically. "But sometimes death is the only refuge for those who are too closely pressed, too bitterly afflicted, as far as both body and soul are concerned."

Marian was astonished, for she rarely saw this side of him, philosophical and contemplative. "Is your mask gone?"

He gave her a searching look, and as he understood the reason for her question, he laughed. "Astonished to see me from a new side? I see that I am right, but it doesn't matter now. I don't think that it is a suitable time to talk about our masks now."

"And I think it is," she shot back.

He shook his head. "No, it is not."

"Robin, I said that I wasn't thinking at those moments. My behavior was irrational," Marian said. "I am sorry that I hurt you. I am sorry that I went against your wishes and my own feelings for you. I want you to believe me that I did that unintentionally."

"Are you sorry?" he said with a touch of doubt.

"Yes, I am."

There was a long, ominous silence, occupied on Robin's part by restless fiddling with the vase that he had taken from a table. Then he broke the silence.

"When I learned about your marriage, I wanted to kill Gisborne on the spot, I admit, but I didn't do that, because of you and because of my unwillingness to take a human life in cold blood," he confessed. "I would have been sorry for the rest of my life if I disregarded my principles, for, in this case, I would have acted like Vaisey, Gisborne, and other likes of them."

Robin spoke those words quite slowly, without apparent anger, but in a heavy, exhausted voice and with a note of disgust. Marian felt her heart moved with desperate pity and deep love for him; she felt guiltier than before. For a moment, he looked like a man wounded to death.

"I am so proud of you, for you didn't become a murderer, especially not because of me."

He gave her a searching look. His heart torn between love, hatred, and sheer astonishment as he tried to understand how they had arrived at the final battlefield for their happy future and had lost without fighting with the sheriff, just because she had chosen Gisborne over him.  She seemed to him a strange, even frightening creature, for he didn't expect that she could ever marry Guy of Gisborne for any reason. She was someone whom he hadn't seen before – she was a complete stranger.

Robin no longer looked like a mortally wounded man, but like an angry, spoiled man. He recovered his usual overweening vanity. "You and he don’t deserve to be killed by me in cold blood," he snapped contemptuously. “I would have never sacrificed my principles of justice for the likes of you.”

"Will you ever forgive me?" she asked very softly, ignoring his harshness.

"Splendid, Marian, splendid! And now you ask for forgiveness," he said crossly.

"Will you ever be able to forgive me?" she repeated.

"Not now or maybe never," he said coldly, but truthfully.

"I understand." She lowered her head, in silent resignation. "I fear my plea for forgiveness is all I can offer you, at least for now, Robin."

He looked affronted. "And what about us? Was your love for me a lie? What about your pledge of love you gave me in the forest?" he asked almost rudely.

"It never was a lie, Robin."

"I am not so sure of that," Robin parried. He began pacing the room, then stopped near her and raised her chin, looking right into her eyes. "Do you understand what you did? Did you think about the consequences?" He was very angry. He craved to shout and make a scandal, but he had to be quiet because he was in the castle and risked being discovered.

"What is done is done."

"You ruined our chances to be together!" He laughed humorlessly. "Or do you love Gisborne, this traitor who planned to kill our king? He once told me that you were stirred by him. Was he correct?"

"Even if I am stirred by him, it is out of your business," Marian snapped, irritated that he guessed at least half of the truth. She felt anger simmer in her blood. She hated his tart mockery at such important moments.

"It’s my deal!"

"It was your deal," she amended, the blue flame flaring up in her eyes.

"We had a chance to be happy!"

"And what chances do we have, Robin? We have only bleak future. You are an outlaw. If I am discovered as the Nightwatchman, I might be hanged." She paused and sighed. "I am so tired of everything. I am so tired of uncertainty and anticipation."

A scowl crossed his face. "We planned to be together. We had a plan. We could have been together when King Richard returns and the Black Knights pay for treason. My titles and lands would have been restored, and we would have been able to marry."

"I have no doubt that King Richard will restore your noble status and wealth." She sneered. "As you told me, you are the king's friend and favorite."

He frowned. "Please, not now… Leave the king out of this."

"I cannot, Robin."

"Why?" His shimmering blue eyes begged her to speak.

"King Richard and you are always together in your world, even though the king is so far from us. The king has always influenced our life, although he is not physically with us," Marian pointed out, regret creeping into her voice. "The king once took you from me, and you chose to pursue glory over having a family with me. After your return from the Holy Land, our future again depended on the king's safe return to England."

"Exactly. The king will return. The sheriff will be defeated," he said with confidence.

Unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze, she glanced away. "The truth is that we don't know when the king returns. I begin to doubt that he will ever come back to England either from the Holy Land, Aquitaine, or Norman Lands. I know how much the king loves Norman Lands and Aquitaine, and he may go back there at first and only then to England." She slightly inclined her head. "I have been dreaming of the king's return for so long, but so many years have passed and he is still away."

"King Richard will return to England and everything will be alright, then," he repeated.

She laughed. "Consider all options, Robin. What if the king never returns? What if he is killed by the Saracens or by Prince John's assassins? What if the sheriff and the prince continue holding power?" She laughed again. "On top of that, we both can be dead by the time of the king’s return."

Robin was furious, his eyes darkened. "Enough, Lady Gisborne! The king will return to England alive, even if I have to go to hell to save him and take him to England!" His voice was edged with anger.

"I have no doubt you would go there to save him."

"I will do everything for Richard because–"

"I know. You don't need to explain."

"One thing,” he hissed.  “Imagining or implying the king's death or its possibility might be considered high treason. Yet, you do this very often."

She rolled her eyes. "We are only talking."

"It doesn't matter because the king's life is sacred."

"Again the king," she whispered, lowering her head as if in dismay. There were small tears in her eyes, but she refused to give in to them. She had to remain calm and composed. "Everything is centered on the great and powerful King Richard the Lionheart."

He paled. His face lost its blankness – now he looked hurt and angry. "Watch your tongue when you speak about the king," he retorted, his voice strangely low in spite of his rage.

"The king! Same old same old!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "Robin, you have no right to treat me like a child. Don't command me what to do."

"You must be courteous and polite when you speak about King Richard, our lord and sovereign," he reproached her, narrowing his eyes at her. He was astounded with her words.

“Oh, God.”

"To whom are you loyal to – King Richard or Prince John?" he asked after a long pause.

"To King Richard, even despite his many flaws," she responded truthfully.

"I doubt your loyalty."

"Then you are a fool, Robin of Locksley."

“Maybe I am a fool,” Robin began, “but I will never tolerate that someone, even you, talk about King Richard's flaws. He is the lord of the realm, and you have no right to judge him or question his authority," he said coolly. "It seems that I don't know you."

Marian wasn't stunned. It was so typical for Robin, for he always defended the king. "The king and you. Always the same.” She sighed. “And where are we – you and I? Where were we?"

"Go on," he emboldened.

"You always chose the king over me," she said sincerely.

He shook his head in denial. "No, I haven't. You are wrong."

"Robin, you once abandoned me for the king, and you can do this again."

"I would have never left you again if you hadn’t married Gisborne!"

"And now?"

"What will happen now is my business. If the king needs me, I will go to him." His voice took a lower octave. "You don't need me now because you have a perfect husband to take care of you." The last words were spoken with unimaginable contempt and hatred.

“Very well. Let it be so.”

"I cannot guarantee that the king will return tomorrow or the next week," he said in a calmer voice, restraining his temper. "But I swear that I will do everything I can and I will sacrifice everything I have for the king and for England." He swallowed painfully. "I would have given everything for England where we could have been happy together, but you destroyed this chance."

Marian glanced away. "The king and country have your ultimate loyalty."

"Of course; I am not a traitor, in contrast to Gisborne."

"Robin, don't insult Guy!" she yelled at him. "He has qualities. He is a good and decent man."

"He is such a great man," Robin drawled with poisonous sarcasm. "Gisborne is a murderer and a traitor. I swear he will pay for his crimes."

"I am not sure whether Guy indeed tried to kill the king in the Holy Land."

Robin laughed with an ostensible touch of venom. "You are wrong. I know for certain that Gisborne attempted regicide, but he failed because I stopped him."

"You have no proof!"

"I saw the tattoo on Gisborne's forearm. That’s enough for the king and for me."

"It was dark in the king's tent when you wounded that Saracen. You may be mistaken that Guy had exactly the same tattoo. Your mind is clouded by furious jealousy."

He burst into laughter, annoyed that she still doubted that Guy had made an attempt on the king's life. "I am not mistaken, Lady Gisborne. I served in the private guard for years and dealt with many assassination attempts on King Richard's life." His lips curved in a sanctimonious smile. "Do you really think that I am a blind fool who cannot remember details of regicide attempts? I marked many men before I sliced Gisborne's arm, and those marks often helped me find culprits later."

Marian looked at him straight into his eyes. "You have always been an arrogant, self-assured man, Robin. In the early youth, you were a golden boy, a prodigy son of Malcolm of Locksley, who was loved and admired by everyone. You joined King Richard on the Third Crusade to gain your glory of a brave warrior, and you became a war hero in the Holy Land. Finally, you returned, and, on your first day in Nottingham, you behaved more foolhardily than ever before. Even in the forest, you still are the mighty Earl of Huntingdon and Lord of Locksley."

"What else do you see?"

She smiled as the image of the young Robin resurfaced in her mind, and she compared the man from her memories with the man who stood in front of her. "Definitely, you have changed after your return,” she told him. “You became more righteous and more arrogant. Now you are also self-sacrificing, and you developed even more altruistic principles than those you had embraced in your early youth.” She sighed. “Yet, you still are the Robin of old times in many ways. You need to grow up."

Robin felt as if she had slapped him hard across his cheek. He couldn't keep from turning away to hide a look of resentment and despondency, and, taking a deep breath, forced calmness onto his face. He was saddened that she had failed to realize how much the holy war had affected and changed him. He had buried so much pain and sorrow in the depths of his heart. He never allowed anyone to see his emotional scars that hung over him like a dead load, always suffering alone at night, when, gripped by powerful, dreadful nightmares, he wandered across the battlefields of Outremer.

Robin desperately tried to conceal his traumatic experience and deep-seated, lingering rhythms of pain under the mask of a young, innocuous boy, with his cheeky grin and seemingly carefree attitude. He had to summon all his self-control to keep an image of the same young golden boy he had been before the Crusade. And he succeeded as very few people, excluding, perhaps, Much, knew that he had carried deep and painful burdens and regrets. Robin had changed dramatically, and he naively thought Marian would be able to see that through his mask. It appeared that he was mistaken.

Robin swung his gaze to Marian. He intended to play a game. If she didn't see his true personality, it was even better. His eyes gleaming wickedly, he smiled and bowed very low to her, as though she had been a princess. It was a dignified bow, but in a mocking manner.

"I am honored that you hold me in such a high grade." He laughed. "I have grown up a long time ago." He cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe you need to grow up."

"I have grown-up!"

He glared at her. "And so have I, but you are foolish enough not to see that."

"Don't speak to me in this tone!" she shouted in ringing tones. "Your contempt is insulting."

"Speak more quietly, Lady Gisborne." He lowered his icy gaze at her. "I am usually very polite, unless people say things that are annoying and strangely stupid."

"There has always been an aura of exclusivity and pomposity around you."

"Maybe you are right, Lady Gisborne; but these qualities didn't prevent you from telling me that you loved me and from accepting my marriage proposal." Robin smiled provokingly, never taking his eyes off Marian's alabaster neck glowing in the firelight.

Embarrassed, Marian fluttered her long eyelashes down. "I am sorry."

He shook his head, disappointed. "So many lies… So many false hopes…"

Marian’s heart was full of something that she wanted to say, and yet the words were too difficult. "Robin, I am a married woman now. We cannot–” She abruptly broke off. After a long, tense pause, she went on. “You are a charming and handsome young man. I think… that I am not the only woman who was smitten with you. I hope that you will find someone else."

He laughed grimly. "You really think so?"

"I don't know, but I want to think so," she said with a sigh. "I remember that before you proposed to me all these years ago, you broke hearts of many village girls. I am sure that you also captured hearts of many young belles when you were at the court."

Robin flashed a tongue-in-cheek smile. "Undoubtedly, you are not the first and the last woman in my bed. If you think that I lived in celibacy when I fought in the Holy Land, you are wrong." _But you are the only woman whom I loved and still love, he thought._

After Marian had broken their first betrothal, Robin had left England heartbroken. He had tried to find forgetfulness in affairs: he had slept with Queen Eleanor’s ladies-in-waiting at the royal court in Aquitaine and had often found a girl for a night in various towns and villages on the way to the Holy Land. In the Holy Land, Robin had used services of whores in the famous brothels of Acre, though it hadn’t happened regularly. Robin hadn’t been eager to participate in orgies and debauchery, like many other Crusaders did; on the contrary, he had reprimanded his men in the king's private guard if they had spent much time in Acre's brothels. Robin had always been a ladies man and a true charmer, but he had never been a womanizer and a debauchee.

"I am grateful, Robin, for bringing me close to embarrassment and shame," she said after a moment. "At least you are honest with me. It keeps me free of illusions.” She sighed. “Yet, I would appreciate if you stop being so improper, for I don’t want to hear about your love affairs."

"Unlike you, I have always been honest with you," Robin responded. He cleared his throat. "As for Gisborne, he is a traitor. I promise that he will pay for his crimes."

She closed her eyes and sighed. He saw the expression of confusion on her face that soon changed into fear and little by little into despair. "Good God!" she burst out vehemently. "Robin, how many times do I have to say that Guy has good qualities? He can change!"

"Justice must be served. Traitors must pay for treason."

"Robin, don't be so cruel." She looked almost desperate at that moment.

"I am just being fair."

Her features recovered composure. "Guy may redeem himself. There is goodness in him."

"No! You are wrong."

"I am not!" she shot back.

Robin cast a cold, disdainful glance at her. "I feared that you are attracted to him, but you told me that you loved me." He took a step forward, put his hand to her cheek, and then raised her chin, looking into her eyes. "You used Gisborne's affection to spy on him for our cause. You manipulated Gisborne." Blue flame of betrayal flared up in his eyes. "But I never thought that you lied to me when you said you felt nothing for him." His voice was low and rough with emotion. "You manipulated both Gisborne and me. You lied to both of us." Then he took his hand away from her face and stepped aside.

"I don't want to talk about it." She bit her lips. He got the point, and it was useless to deny that.

"As you wish, Lady Gisborne." He laughed bitterly. "Enough lies. I am sick of your lies.”

Marian again felt her anger boil. She took an engagement ring from the chain she wore around her neck and gave it to Robin.

"I don't need it," she spat.

"Then I will get rid of it in the woods."

"Good idea. That’s exactly what you should do."

"I don't need reminders about you." Robin made a step back and took his bow; he shot an arrow into the window so that he could climb down the wall on a rope.

"Where are you going?"

His eyes flashed darkly. "I want to be away from you, in a place where I cannot see you, Marian." A short pause fell between them. "I just cannot see you anymore. I cannot even look at you."

"Robin, I–"

He interrupted her. "I have to pretend that you are dead because, otherwise, I won’t survive," he stated, with a touch of unnatural melancholy that frightened her.

"Robin, I don't think–"

He cut her off sharply. "Enjoy your marital bed and life on the money he is stealing from the poor of Nottingham and from my rightful inheritance.”

Her anger abated, and now she felt desperate. She didn’t want to let him go, she couldn’t lose him again. "Robin, I… I… Robin… please–"

He looked incredulously at her; then he sighed. "Marian, there is no need to say anything now," Robin said in a sorrowful voice. A sad smile curved his lips, lifting one corner of his mouth with familiar irony, but his eyes recovered the tenderness he had treated her with before.

Letting out a sigh of resignation, Robin walked to Marian. He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips with something like a sob, kissing it tenderly. Marian seized his hand in a sporadic movement; they stood so close, their hands clasped, their eyes slightly watery, as if they were two young star-crossed lovers doomed by God from the start. Then, taking her face between his palms, he kissed her face slowly and gently, as if she were so fragile. He pressed her to his chest, holding her tightly and laying his cheek against her forehead with a desperate tenderness.

Robin looked down at her face, and then, driven by instinct, he crushed his lips on hers, claiming them fiercely. He kissed her hard, possessively, and deeply, his passion growing with every kiss. She put her arms round his neck and kissed him with hungry kisses which he delighted in. They threw themselves into a whirl of passion with vigor, drowning in a sea of sensual pleasure. The kissing went on forever, their tongues battling in their mouths. They were kissing wish a great desperation that was so fierce that it made their heads swim, their throbbing intensely in their veins.

Robin was the first to come to his senses. "No," he said firmly. “It is a way to nowhere. We shouldn’t do this anymore.” He deposited a kiss – a brotherly kiss – on her forehead, and then stepped aside.

Her expression was troubled. “Yes, it is the right thing to stop,” she agreed. “But… But…”

“This time, it was your choice to leave me, not mine. We can change nothing because you married him,” Robin said with resignation. They could be together only if Gisborne died or if Marian’s marriage to him was annulled, and the thought of killing his mortal foe crossed his mind again, but he quickly banished it. He didn’t want to have anything in common with Marian; he wasn’t ready to forgive her and be as committed to their relationship as he had been before. "I have a good deal of pain in my heart, but I have to accept your choice, though I cannot promise you my forgiveness,” he added after a pause.

"Robin," she whispered, touched by his eloquent and noble tone of grief.

"You are right," Robin said in a hoarse broken voice. He took a step back, his eyes never leaving her face. "I have no right to reprimand you. You have been waiting for my return for so long, and I am not astonished that you don't wish to be with me anymore."

"Don't leave me, Robin!" she exclaimed.

Robin was genuinely surprised to hear her pleas. He himself had already realized that whatever she said was uttered in the vision of a fatality that kept them apart. It seemed that they were just not meant to be together. "I have to leave," he said with a sigh.

Marian was silent a moment, and then said passionately, "Robin, you cannot leave me again!"

"But you sure understand that now we must go on separate ways." He made his trademark mocking bow, also smiling at her a little sadly. Then he strode towards the window, but stopped and glanced back at her, giving her a long, melancholic look, his farewell look. His heart was swelling with pain, and it was difficult to go on; he made a great effort over himself to say in a low tremulous voice, "Always remember that I loved you tenderly, sincerely, and deeply, and that even now I wish we could be together." His face hardened. "But you ruined everything."

The firelight fell on her cheekbones and awakened a gleam of affliction and sadness in her sapphire eyes. "Forgive me, Robin. I have never wanted to hurt you. It happened because–"

Robin shook his head. "It is too late to ask for forgiveness, my love," he said softly, his gaze traveling meditatively across her slender form. "I loved you so much, Marian. I put my faith in you, so much faith. And then you just threw it away and betrayed me." Then his voice changed: it was all at once dangerously silken, terrible in the resentment and coldness she could hear in his voice. "I want to stop loving you, and, with God's help, I will forget you." He sighed deeply. "Farewell, the loveliest and cruelest of all ladies." He wanted to leave, for he couldn’t be near her anymore.

"Robin! Robin! Don't leave me! Please don’t leave me!" Marian cried out, feeling all at once as if the sky had fallen on her head and the world were reeling. But only a silence was her response as he was gone.

Her arms folded over her stomach, her eyes full of tears, Marian stood, looking at the window, her breath sounding loud in a silence of the room. Robin was gone and he would never forgive her, his words were ringing in her ears. She doubted that she would ever see him again. He left her alone to mourn for a lost chance for happiness in her proud solitude.

Marian couldn't see that once Robin had climbed down the wall of the castle, he stood solemn and quiet, his arms crossed over his chest, his head slightly thrown back. His eyes were full of tears, and there was a painful grimace on his lips. He was looking at the dark sky, asking why God was so cruel to him. He turned his gaze back to Marian’s window and looked there, thinking about the woman whom he so tenderly loved. Then what she had done today passed before his eyes again, and his heart skipped a beat. Thoughts of her betrayal brought back all the pictures of the day, and they floated in his mind long enough to make his heart collapse in his chest.

It was a sunset time, with an orange fire burning in the sky. Mostly all was quiet in the narrow streets as the town was settling down into the night. Pain filled Robin’s heart at the thought that Marian would spend this night with his enemy, whom he hated with murderous, virulent hatred, as much as he had never hated him before. A long, omniscient silence reassured Robin that there was nothing left dear for him in Nottingham; he murmured farewell words to his lost love and walked away from the castle.

In her bedchamber, Marian threw herself on the bed with her clothes on. She lay there in petrification like she had done on many days after Robin’s departure to the Holy Land. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she broke into heart-wrenching sobs of grief. She was hurting, she felt ashamed of herself, and she was confused as well, lost in a maze of her conflicted emotions. If she loved Robin, then why did she marry Guy? Was it for better or for worse? She had no answer.

She had long doubted Robin's commitment to their relationship and his willingness to settle down, while he was so torn between the king and her. Robin had always been hungry for risky adventures, and it seemed that he would always need to live on the brink of death. A wild thrill of happiness, made up of satisfaction, confidence, and joy, as much as arrogance and pride, surged through him every time he carried out a new insane plan, and he was more eager to take more risks. Marian thought that it was exciting to have adventures, but she also wanted to have a normal life. For whatever reason, Guy appeared to be more ready to settle down than Robin.

Marian was torn between Robin of Locksley and Guy of Gisborne, loving Robin and being extremely stirred by Guy. She had denied her attraction to Guy for so long, but, finally, fate prevailed and she no longer could run from herself. Yet, she couldn't forget her childhood sweetheart who always was on her mind and in her heart. She was trapped _in a fatal, dangerous love triangle, torn between the two different men_ – Robin, the king's honorable nobleman and the people's hero with altruistic ideals, and Guy, the sheriff's cruel servant and the mysterious, tormented soul with a not-so-black heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think now you shouldn't have any questions why Marian married Guy and what she felt for Robin and Guy. She married Guy because she thought that they would not survive the siege and didn't hope to see Robin again. She also married him because she was attracted to him, although she tried to deny this fact even to herself. She was afraid of death, and why not? She was young and full of life, and she can be afraid of death even for such a brave and extraordinary woman like Marian. I have always thought that Marian wanted to look invincible on the show, perhaps taking example from Robin.
> 
> Marian and Robin's conversation after her sudden wedding to Guy shows that she was tired of uncertainty and waiting for what something abstract and uncertain. Marian is a clever and practical woman, and she understands that Robin is loyal to the king who will probably never return. Unlike Robin, she doesn't view the king as a flawless hero, but she is still loyal to Richard and will never change her allegiances. She has finally become disillusioned.
> 
> Robin is suffering, he is heartbroken and devastated. He is mean, taunting Marian as they speak about their broken betrothal and her betrayal of their love. Marian feels guilty that she hurt Robin, but she also cannot leave Guy because they are already married. Of course, Robin cannot forgive her straight away. He loves her, but he has to leave her behind to survive.
> 
> The love triangle is dangerous, and many things will happen before it is untangled. The plot will develop in the way that the characters will have to adapt to new circumstances and deal with shocking revelations. There will be mind-blowing mysteries and intrigues in this epic.


	2. A Crimson Darkness

**Chapter 2**

**A Crimson Darkness**

Marian sat in an armchair beside the fire burning in the hearth. She was staring into the flames, struggling to hold back tears, swallowing fiercely, and making herself think of the benefits she could reap from her marriage to Guy – anything to take her mind off Robin and take control of her emotions. The orange fire with its gently audible movement seemed like a doleful existence calmly independent of personal problems, petty passions, and pressing uncertainties, which were gnawing at her heart.

The door resonated with a jaunty knock, and Marian voiced her permission to come in. Sarah, Marian’s maid from Knighton, entered and greeted her mistress, saying that she had brought a tray of Marian’s favorite delicacies. Marian didn’t react, her eyes half-shut against the agony of reality and all other deep, poignant emotions she was experiencing. Sighing deeply, Sarah put a tray on the table in the corner of the chamber; then she sketched a small curtsy and hurried to leave the chamber.

At the sound of the closing door, Marian was snapped out of her grievous thoughts. She noticed that there was a tray of food on the table, but she wasn’t hungry. She ran her eyes across her surroundings – brilliant golden and green, the traditional colors of the Huntingdon noble house. A large bed in the center, bedside tables, several high-back chairs, and a little sofa in the corner were upholstered in lavender and green brocade. The hangings on the walls, a large carpet on the floor, bedcovers, and silk cushions on the bed were also in the same colors. Other pieces of furniture of precious woods, vases, and goblets of green pottery completed the décor. The furniture was lovely and exquisite.

The interior was gorgeous, but she didn't care about the comforts of her bedchamber. Tears stung her eyes as she remembered that she was supposed to share a bed with Guy in Robin’s old room. She knew that she had to leave her love story with Robin in the past, but it was easier said than done. The memories of their time together made her chest tighten until it ached. The sound of the name – Robin – was entangled in her memory. Whatever she did or said Robin was always in her mind, his name swirling like an intoxicating cacophony of syllables through the memories of the past.

Suddenly, the sound of a familiar baritone snapped Marian out of the imaginary world of dreams and memories. She turned her head and stared at her husband, Guy of Gisborne, who stood near the bed.

Guy smiled, his steel blue eyes darkening with passion. Marian was one of the celebrated beauties in Nottinghamshire, but she had never looked more beautiful than now. Dressed in a light blue brocade robe, with tight sleeves and a high collar, her long dark hair streaming down her shoulders, Marian looked exclusively tempting. Her pale oval face, her sweetly soft, her full pink lips, and her gracious manner gave an impression of gentle grace whilst the fire in her gorgeous sapphire blue eyes showed inner strength. She possessed the beauty of deep blue sea – calm or stormy, yet always divine and passionate. She looked like a goddess, Guy thought, deeply aroused.

Guy was delighted that Marian had finally become his wife. They were joined in holy matrimony, and she was his forever. Strong waves of happiness were spreading through his heart in certain rhythms, weaving melody through the air like incense and leading to ephemeral lightness. Marian was his wife! Robin Hood lost her forever, and that thought made Guy’s heart pound in maddening delight. His revenge on Robin was one of the motives for marrying Marian, but not the strongest one: he genuinely loved her, and his tender affection for her was storing itself in him throughout many months, and he was going to watch over her more than he watched over his other treasures.

"Marian," Guy called. His breathing was erratic.

Marian stood in silent shock, though there was a rush of her indrawn breath. She blinked, her eyes taking in the lines of Guy’s body under his long black robe. “Guy…” She jumped to her feet. Her knees were trembling at the realization of why he came to her. "I didn't hear you enter the room."

Their eyes locked, and Marian blushed at the sight of the raw desire in Guy's eyes. Sensing that he was aflame with passion, she inwardly shuddered and the thought entered her mind – Guy’s sensuality was so different from Robin’s: Robin’s passion – tender, lusty, and almost natural – sent her heart racing and made her dizzy, also alive and complete. Guy's passion for her was overwhelming and devastating, so powerful that it scared the life out of her as she stared into his bottomless stormy orbs. Never before had she seen such an intensive gaze – burning her without a touch and overpowering her without a fight. Guy was too unrestrained and too male, and that made her heart jump.

Guy was everything a woman _physically_ wanted in a man, and, being honest with herself, she admitted that a part of her had craved this moment for a long time. She was swept away by Guy’s passion only looking at him, and she wanted his fire, yet being unable to overcome the fear that immobilized her inside. Something in the pit of her gut was saying no, and the male name – Robin – reverberated in her ears as if she were screaming it. How could she be with Guy if she didn’t love him? How could she want to feel his touch if Robin was suffering from her betrayal alone in the forest on her wedding night?

Guy gave her a tender, charming smile, which she had never seen on his usually cold face before. "I have a gift for you,” he said in a voice rich with emotion.

She raised a quizzical eyebrow. "A gift?"

"This gift is very special, Marian."

The gift – a pair of pink pearl earrings and a matching necklace – had an important meaning to Guy as it was an identical copy of his mother’s favorite jewelry set he remembered very well since the happy days of his boyhood. His father, Roger of Gisborne, had given Ghislaine of Gisborne this jewelry set on the anniversary of their wedding. Guy had prepared this gift for Marian when they had been betrothed before she had left him at the altar: he had asked Prince John's best jeweler to produce an identical copy, and the result was unbelievable – the new pink pearl jewelry set looked like Ghislaine's old one.

When Marian put the necklace on her neck, the tears of excitement and anguish glistened in Guy's blue eyes. Looking at Marian, Guy smiled as his mind replayed the image of his beautiful mother, with her long, glossy, dark hair, her smooth ivory skin, and her brilliant, radiant smile.

Marian was not only a fighter – she was also a woman. She deeply cared about the poor and the starving villagers, but she liked being lavished with gifts. She wasn't a spendthrift youth, but she still fancied beautiful and rare things. Guy watched her with an expression of bright satisfaction. He was fascinated with her beautiful, sincere smile. Her sapphire blue eyes sparkled with delight as her small, pale hands touched the jewelry. Her eyes and smiles hypnotized him.

Marian smiled heartily. "It is gorgeous!"

"I am glad you like it."

"Why did you choose pink pearls?"

His expression evolved into sadness. "My father once gave my mother a similar jewelry set, and she loved it. I asked the jeweler to make this for you." He smiled. "Besides, the jeweler entranced me with his tales of warm seas that had once bathed these pink pearls and about the intricate bargains by which he had acquired them in France."

Marian gasped. The gift was proof of his deep affection for her. Her heart was pounding so violently that she could hear nothing but its drumbeat. With frantic haste, she strode forward and stopped near Guy. She took his hand in hers and their fingers entwined. "Guy, I will always treasure this gift."

"I know that you will."

"Well, you are a generous husband."

He felt a gentle touch of her hand on his cheek, and that sent a thrill through him. "I want to make you happy. Let me take care of you, Marian."

She smiled slightly. "If your affection for me doesn't fade away, then I may be happy to have such a caring husband," she said in a sweet, shy voice.

Guy smiled back at her. "Marian, you are not just my wife – you are my whole world," he said. "Never think that you are nothing more than a thing or a piece of furniture and that you are good only for bearing children. I promise that I will never treat you in this way."

Marian took a step back from Guy, and her reaction puzzled him, but he said nothing letting her withdraw his hand.

Her mind was racing. When Robin had learned that she was the Nightwatchman, he proudly declared that she could have gone back to her embroidery because he, the great Robin Hood, would take care of the poor. She hadn’t known whether Robin had been mocking her or hadn’t viewed her as his equal. Now Marian wondered what Guy's words meant. But how could he view her as his equal if he knew nothing about the Nightwatchman? Would he treat her as he promised if he learned the truth?

Marian smiled timidly. "Thank you."

"It is the best reward to hear this, my love."

Marian felt a shiver running down her spine at the thought that one day she would have to open all her secrets to Guy. They were at the stage when he was trying to charm her, but their relationship wasn’t deep yet. She was afraid of he could do to her if he discovered her mysteries. He would probably make her pay for her deceits, especially for her secret relationship with Robin.

Guy took her hand in his and kissed her palm. "I love you," he whispered.

"Guy, I–" she abruptly broke off, her eyes downcast as if modestly, though in fact she just  couldn’t look into his face without feeling herself a traitor and a liar.

A long, uncontrollable shiver of passion passed through him. "You are so beautiful."

He was so close, and she felt his scent of fear and excitement. His arm encircled her waist, and he bent his head down to brush his mouth over hers, savoring her, tentatively. He kissed her desperately and possessively, and she parted her lips, letting him probe with his tongue, drinking in the sweet taste of her. Then he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, the dark blue flame of a dangerous desire burning them from the inside out. He plunged his mouth down on hers and kissed her again, and from that moment the world dissolved.

Guy pulled her to him harder, his hands running down her back and her hips, as they stood body to body. Marian had no strength to fight against her own desire for him, and for a moment, just for a moment, her fear was gone, her whole world centered on his tongue in her mouth. The strange world she inhabited was bounded by the smell of his skin and the pleasure she felt at his touch and his kisses.

“Marian, Marian,” Guy groaned, a flurry of emotions coursing through him. “Oh, sweet Jesus…”

Marian closed her eyes as he started kissing her throat. Suddenly, the image of Robin’s face entered her mind, and that suffused her heart with fear; her eyes were full of terror. She stopped responding and froze in his embrace, her body stiffening instantly. Fear entered her soul, a chilling, life-taking fear, and it dulled all her senses, to the point of taking in very little around her.

She fought with him to get herself disentangled from his embrace, and twisted her head away as if in revulsion. “Let go of me! Don’t touch me!”

He stared at him with the most bemused look he had ever worn. “Marian, what did I do wrong?”

"Guy, I don't want this," she warned as she took a step back. She brushed her slender hand across her bosom and then wrapped her arms around her own chest, as if protecting herself from him.

Guy furrowed. "Did I hurt you?"

"I cannot… I am so sorry…" She averted her eyes. A thousand of emotions coursed through her – dread, fear, regret, and anger. How could she be intimate with Guy if she loved Robin?

His frown deepened. "Marian, are you afraid of the wedding night?" But then he chuckled, thinking that she was just shy as she had never been with a man before. "I promise to be very gentle with you."

"I cannot share a bed with you," Marian murmured.

Guy took her hand in his and brought her fingertips to his lips, planting feather-light kisses on her skin. “You are my wife. You shouldn't be scared to be with me. It is normal for us."

"Guy, no! Please, not today! Just not today!" Despair filled her eyes. All she wanted was to kick him out of the bedroom and weep in solitude.

"It is of no use, Marian. We are married, and I want to spend this night with you.” There was some anger in his tone. “Why should we wait? You cannot always sneak out of your marital duties.”

“Oh my goodness," she said, her face breaking into despair as she felt cornered. Wild thoughts chased themselves through her head as she was trying to find the way out, and after a moment, her face regained its composure. “Guy, I am still in mourning for my father. I cannot… think of anything else now.” It was the only thing that came to her mind, but it sounded plausible.

Guy’s rage subsided into slight irritation. He imagined that something specific must be said to coax her into being with him. “Marian, I understand that you are still grieving, but you have to see it all clearly enough – you are not alone even though your father is not with you anymore.”

Marian responded to that by screwing up her face in a painful grimace. His words coincided with Robin’s words her former betrothed had told her on the day of her father’s death when he had been trying to console her in his arms. It was more than she could bear, and she sniffed in frustration. “Guy, I need more time…” The words barely came out of her mouth, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

His eyes were full of affection as he locked his gaze with hers. "I wish you would tell me what I can do to help you. I will do everything for you.”

She looked at him in silence with a melancholy radiance from under her eyelids. “Unfortunately, you can do nothing for me,” she said at last.

That was a very unwelcome declaration, and he sighed heavily. There was some strong emotion on her face, but he couldn’t decipher it. “What do you want me to do now?” It was a courteous question.

Guy took a step to her, longing to take her into his arms and appease her pain by letting her weep into his chest. Marian reacted in the way he found very disappointing – she retreated back to the window, as if trying to put as much distance between them as she could.

Guy was correct: feelings of mingled panic or revulsion swept through her at the thought that she could be physically touched by anyone. “I want to be alone,” she answered, with a little turn of her neck as she stared into the flames.

He let out a sigh and managed a smile. He wasn't pleased with her refusal, but he understood that if he forced her to consummate their marriage against her, he would never win her heart. "I am very sorry, Marian; I know this is painful to think of your father,” he said softly. “I will give you more time.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Guy.”

There was something like regret mingled with pain in Guy’s eyes before his expression turned into blankness. “You must be tired. You need to go to bed.” He walked to the door, but there he turned and added, “I will be good and generous to you, but don’t be ungrateful and forgetful.”

“I won’t,” she responded sulkily. Definitely, he wasn’t Robin: he didn’t forget to remind her of her allegiances and the comforts of the manor she could enjoy only as his wife. But it was Robin’s manor!

When he was gone, Marian gave free vent to her tears, tears of anger and shame, but also tears of relief and gladness that Guy was gone and she didn't have to spend this night with him. She threw herself on the bed and sobbed into her pillow. Never before had she been more frightened, guilty, ashamed, and confused than on her wedding night. Her mind was reeling, and the voice in the back of her head whispered to her that now she was Guy's wife. With a plaintive clarity, she realized that her life had changed – she was no longer a free woman and had to accept her lot in her new life.

§§§

After the wedding, Guy treated Marian very well. He gave her numerous gifts, and she especially liked her new expensive gowns and jewelry. He was polite, caring, and patient – his cruelty perished as if it had never been, though Marian understood that he acted so only to please her. She started thinking that perhaps her marriage to Guy wouldn’t be as unbearable as she thought. Surprisingly, Guy didn't demand that they consummate their marriage: he waited that she would willingly come to him. His heart-piercing delicacy touched a string in her heart, and a feeling of guilt rose in her like a burning tide. She hoped that she would be able to fool him for a long while, for she had no courage to reveal her secrets to him.

Living with Guy under the same roof at Locksley Manor or sometimes staying in the castle, Marian was becoming more and more convinced that Guy wasn't a monster with a wicked heart as Robin and others thought. She swore to do everything possible to take Guy out of Vaisey's pernicious influence. Vaisey was destroying the goodness in her husband's heart by tempting him with power and wealth. She wasn't sure that she would be able to save Guy, but she had to try before it was too late.

Living at Locksley Manor as Lady Gisborne, not as Lady Locksley, was difficult. For Marian, it still was Robin's house, not Guy's. There were many Robin's things there, and it brought numbness in her limbs and a tart taste of guilt in her mouth. Robin had been born in his house and had grown up there. It wasn't the place where Guy should have lived, for it was unfair that Robin had nothing and Guy had everything. She would be happy if Guy had returned the manor to Robin.

She felt uncomfortable when she heard gossips about her marriage. Many villagers didn't hide their disapproval of her union with Gisborne, thinking that she should have married their true lord – Robin of Locksley. Marian was irritated that the peasants viewed Robin only as a hero and a savior, almost idolizing him. Their eyes condemned her for marriage Guy. Neither of them knew how many obstacles lied between Robin and her and how difficult their relations became. They had no right to judge her, for they didn't know Robin as well as she did.

Thornton was the most displeased one among the servants at the manor. He deeply loved Robin and admired him for helping the poor and saving innocents from the sheriff's cruelty. Marian had no doubt that Thornton didn't consider Guy his rightful lord: Robin was and would always be the man's landlord and master. Besides, it was clear that the old man disapproved of her choice of husband. It hurt Marian to think that Robin's old servants despised Guy and didn't see the goodness in the depths of Guy's heart.

Once Marian approached Thornton in the kitchen when they were alone; other servants were occupied with cleaning the living room, the hall, and other rooms. “Thornton, I know that you are not pleased to see me at Locksley Manor as Lady Gisborne," she began.

The old servant stiffened and lowered his eyes, as if in embarrassment. "Lady Gisborne, we have tried very hard to make your stay comfortable and enjoyable. If we displeased you, we are very sorry for the inconvenience. Please tell us how we can rectify the situation."

It hurt her that Thornton was so cold towards her whereas he had loved her so much in childhood. "Everything is alright. You did nothing to displease me and Sir Guy."

The man raised his eyes to her. "I am relieved that we didn't offend you, my lady."

"Thornton, I know what you are thinking of me," Marian said cautiously. "You think that I made a wrong choice when I married Guy."

"I have no right to judge anyone, Lady Marian."

"You don't approve of my marriage to Guy. You consider Robin your true master and lord. You probably wanted Robin to return from the Crusade and marry me, like it was planned many years ago," she continued quietly. "But everything changed. Robin and I are no longer a boy and a girl who dreamed of a carefree life and thought that it would last forever."

"For many of us, Master Robin will always be our true master," Thornton said truthfully. "I will rejoice if he is reinstated as the lord of this manor and all his former lands."

"Thank you for being honest, Thornton," Marian replied with a smile of gratitude. "I have to confess that I feel uncomfortable living here because I do think that it is Robin's house, not Guy's."

The old man smiled faintly. "Thank you, too, my lady, for your frankness."

"Robin cannot work within the system, but _I like a background more than a scene_."

"Background?"

"Yes. I think many things can be done within the system."

"I cannot judge, my lady. I am only a servant," he said neutrally.

She eyed him attentively and sighed. She had a hunch that he hadn’t said what he really thought. "Perhaps, my life is ordinary. Probably, I am ordinary, unlike Robin," she continued.

"I am sorry, my lady, but I don't understand."

"Robin is a good man, the best of all men," she continued in a quieter voice, not wishing to be overheard. "He is England’s man through and through, the king’s man, a fighter for justice, and only then a husband. Robin is an idealist, whilst I am more practical and I don’t dream of what I can never have." She smiled wistfully. "These differences are too important to me."

"Sir Guy is Vaisey's man," the servant said cautiously.

"There is much goodness in Guy's heart, but he hides it. I will try to make Guy break from Vaisey. He can change," Marian said cogently, without a shadow of a doubt. "I want him to be his own man, not England's man or the king's loyal servant. This is what Robin can never be – being only his own man, for his allegiances to the king and the people are more important than anything else in his life."

Thornton understood Marian. She wanted to have a family and a husband who wouldn’t spend his life constantly fighting for England, for the king, and for his ideals. He adored Robin, but he feared that his young master could spend his life fighting for ephemeral ideals. He also knew many secrets about Robin’s past, and the truth was that Robin didn't understand the utmost seriousness of the situation he had dragged himself into when he had openly defied the sheriff and Prince John.

"I know what you mean, my lady," Thornton said in a warmer tone. "Maybe you will be able to change something in Sir Guy's life. Before the first wedding ceremony when you left Sir Guy at the altar, he told me that he had committed heinous crimes. He said that _your ladyship’s pure heart would wash away his sins_. Maybe deep down, in his heart, he still craves redemption."

Marian smiled gratefully. She was glad that the man had shared this knowledge with her. Guy’s love for her cannot redeem him, but it could push him to change. "Thank you for telling me that."

"You are welcome, my lady."

"Thornton, don't tell anybody about our conversation."

Thornton bowed to her. "Of course, Lady Marian."

The Nightwatchman wasn't active, and the people wondered where he had disappeared. Marian had heard rumors that the sheriff and Guy had probably murdered the night hero, and she was saddened by that, but she couldn’t resume his favorite incarnation of independence – the Nightwatchman. Instead, she planned to aid the poor legally and openly. She asked Guy's permission to organize the feast for the villagers, and he agreed. She was delighted that he didn't object, though he requested she be cautious, for they couldn’t bring her eagerness to champion the interests of the peasants to the sheriff’s attention. Guy said that she must have helped the poor within due limits.

Even after her marriage Marian still believed that Robin Hood would want to use her as a spy in order to unmask the sheriff's plots. She would betray Guy by assisting Robin, but she couldn't act in any other way as she had to help the people and serve Robin Hood's cause. She was sure that Robin would need her soon and they would meet. But time was passing, and there was no sign of Robin Hood. Once Much and Little John in Locksley making their deliveries, giving condescending gazes and even didn't nodding to acknowledge her presence. She didn't see Will and Djaq anywhere in the town or in Locksley. Allan-a-Dale also observed Marian, looking at her with undeniable astonishment.

One day Guy and Marian spent the night in the castle. In the evening, she stumbled into Allan in an empty corridor and decided to use it as an opportunity to talk. Allan didn’t entirely indulge himself into the vile, treacherous ways: he didn't give away the location of the outlaws' camp and Marian's identity as the Nightwatchman, and from time to time he helped the gang escape from Nottingham.

"Allan, where is Robin? Do you know something about him?" Marian asked with alarming urgency.

Allan shook his head. "I am not being funny, but Robin has become invisible."

"Do Guy and Vaisey talk about him?"

"Maz, ask Gisborne yourself."

"I cannot. It will be strange if I suddenly start making inquiries about Robin and the outlaws," Marian said flatly. "Guy thinks I despise and hate Robin Hood."

Allan smirked. "But it is not so?"

Marian ignored Allan's sarcastic comment. "What do Guy and the sheriff know about Robin?"

"They wonder why the villagers haven’t seen Robin for several weeks."

She sighed heavily. "Did you see the outlaws?"

"I met Much and Will on the market yesterday. I didn't talk to them and didn't want to."

"Why is that so?"

"Perhaps they were hurrying to return to the forest – Much to cook dinner for Robin and Will to help Robin fletch his arrows," Allan said with a sardonic cheer. Then a dark cloud crossed over his face. "Well, they didn't look happy to see me. I am a wretched traitor to them."

Marian smiled. "Allan, you are a good man. You didn't betray me and helped Robin and others many times. If you want to go back to Sherwood, you deserve a second chance."

Allan looked skeptical. "Thank you, Maz, but I am not sure they will ever take me back."

"Allan?" She stared at him.

He cocked his head. "Yes?"

"If you learn something about Robin, please tell me.”

"The sheriff is planning a new trap for Robin and the gang." He lowered his voice. "They think that Robin is sick or is plotting something against them."

Marian cast an alarming glance at Allan. "We must talk to Robin. I don't want him to be captured."

"I will go to the forest tomorrow and try to learn what is going on."

"Thank you, Allan."

"Welcome." He ran his eyes over her pale face. "Are you alright?"

"As usual." Truth be told, she felt unwell and was excessively pale; she slept badly, plagued by nightmares about her last conversation with Robin.

"If you need an ear, you have me."

Marian shrugged. "I am not sure what to say."

"Seriously, what are you gonna do now when you are married to Guy?" His voice was quiet and soft.

"Accept my lot in life."

"Maz, better go to your bedroom before Gisborne discovers us here," Allan urged. "Go. Now."

Marian gave a nod."Goodnight."

He smiled. "Goodnight."

The next day, Allan decided to go the forest. He found Will, Djaq, Much, and Little John on the Great North Road as they were preparing to ambush passing travelers. Allan asked them about Robin, but they ignored him, even Will and Djaq. When Allan went after them and asked the same question again, but only Djaq stopped and said that Robin was fine but needed solitude. Little John and Much called Allan a traitor and left, postponing their plans for an ambush.

The next morning, Marian awoke at dawn. Standing near the window, she stared at the sky that was a battlefield of the sun and the moon fighting for supremacy. She could see the dim and misty outlines of the forest in the distance, and her mind wandered to Robin. In the conflict between her desire not to hurt Guy and her concern about the outlaw’s safety, concern had worn and today she was determined to find Robin. She dressed herself up in a trendy gown made out of dark blue muslin, one of her old gowns; her hair was arranged an elaborate up-do on the nape of her head. Robin liked this dress on her, and she strangely wanted to please him at least with her appearance.

Marian met Allan outside the manor. "Oh, Allan," she breathed. "Why are you not with Guy?"

Allan smiled. "Guy is here, in Locksley, dealing with one of the peasants."

"Ah, I know what that means," she snapped angrily. "I wonder how you can tolerate that, Allan."

"And how can you tolerate what Guy does? I am only Guy's right-hand man, and you are his wife!"

"Stop being so mean," she said through gritted teeth, feeling offended by the truth Allan threw into her face. "Don’t forget what you did to Robin and the gang."

"I didn't want to betray Robin," Allan countered. "Guy captured and tortured me. I was an unwilling informant before Robin figured out that I betrayed him."

Her expression softened. "I am sorry."

"Maz, it is so early! Where are you going now?"

She sighed. "Morning mass will start in an hour. I want to be there." Her features were careful and composed, but inside she shivered in disgust as she again lied.

"Just be careful, Maz." He was well aware that she lied to him, but it was not his place to judge her.

Marian mounted and swiftly rode from Locksley in the direction of Sherwood Forest. She couldn't wait anymore: she needed to be sure of Robin’s safety. There were two places in the woods Marian and Robin loved the most, each of them memorable since the days of their early youth. The first place was the clearing where they had parted their ways before his departure to the Holy Land, and he had also been there with her on the day of her father's death. The Great Tree, as Robin called the place, was her second option: Robin had proposed to her there when she had lived in the woods. He could be in one of these places.

Soon she was in the forest. There was nothing to be heard but the sounds of twittering birds; everything was green and beautiful around. Yet, she was indifferent to the joy of the early summer morning. Her heart was beating faster and faster as she was quickly approaching the clearing where she hoped to find Robin. The familiar trees were in sight, and her heart sank in her throat in disappointment because Robin was not there. She pulled the reins and rode to the Great Tree.

As the Great Tree appeared in sight, Marian tightened the reins and her horse stopped. Her heart pounded harder, and she put a hand on her mouth to prevent herself from screaming.

Robin was indeed there, but she feared to make her presence known. Her gaze slid from the branches to the roots of the tree, and she gasped in disbelief, her shock releasing a swell of tears. She watched Robin dig a small hole and drop there the large engagement ring he had given her when he had proposed to her recently. Her grief was great and irremediable: Robin buried the ring, an act signifying the end of their romance and the death of their love. The love story of Robin Hood and Maid Marian was forever over.

"Goodbye, my love," a crestfallen Robin said in an anguished voice as he scraped the loose earth over the ring. "I will always love you as much as I love the days of my carefree youth." He filled the hole with the earth and finished burying the ring. "But I must move on and forget you."

Robin rose to his feet, and Marian caught a glimpse of his face with an imprint of grief and his lifeless eyes. Horror swept through her, for he was thin, even too thin, and she wondered whether he had eaten well in the past weeks. She saw Robin walk away from the Great Tree into the depths of the woods.

The wind was blowing steadily and gently, as if caressing all living things, but Marian couldn’t enjoy its soothing and calming touch. She could feel nothing, save a feeling of sharp guilt corroding her heart and soul. It was too much to bear, and fresh tears sprang to her eyes. She had to get out of the forest and the visions of the heartbroken man whom she had caused so much pain by her betrayal. She set her horse into a full gallop, escaping from all the painful memories which filled her heart with guilt.

§§§

After his last conversation with Marian, Robin Hood didn't return to the outlaws’ camp. He spent the whole night on the clearing in the woods. He didn't pay attention to the falling rain and thunder rumbling overhead, and he sat under the tree until he was soaked to the bone.

Robin returned to the outlaws' camp only in the early hours of the next morning. His friends asked Robin what happened. Will, who had already understood everything, for he watched Guy lead Marian from the great hall to a chapel, hoped that Robin didn't blame him for his failure to stop Marian from marrying Guy. After a long silence, Robin laughed half-heartedly and informed them that Marian had married Gisborne while they had been searching for the sheriff. Everybody was shocked, and he had to repeat the news twice before the reality sank in.

Much tried to console his master, fussing over Robin and offering food or wine, but in fact only irritating him. In the end, Robin had a serious argument with Much who made a theatrical bow and went to the kitchen to cook dinner. Knowing that they could do nothing to help Robin, the outlaws agreed that it would be better not to disturb their leader, letting him mourn the loss of his love in solitude.

Robin no longer wanted to fight for justice in Nottingham. His ideals didn't change and he still wanted to believe in the good always triumphing over the evil, but he had no strength to fight against the sheriff and Gisborne, as if Marian's betrayal had sucked the life out of him. Robin had never thought that life could be so unfair to him. He had given up everything when he had defied the sheriff – his title, manors, wealth, and status. Finally, he had lost the woman he loved – Marian, all the more to his sworn enemy – Guy of Gisborne. How could he fight for justice and give hope to the people if he saw betrayal and injustice everywhere? Most importantly, he no longer believed that Robin Hood and his gang would be able to bring justice to his homeland without the King of England's interference.

Robin’s only desire was to be alone, and, fortunately, Sherwood provided many opportunities to find so much desired solitude. At day, Robin deliberately avoided anyone’s company, leaving the camp and going to the places in the forest which he associated with Marian. At night, Robin sat on his bunk, staring into the darkness; if fatigue finally caught up with him, he fell into restless sleep but was haunted by the heartbreaking picture of Guy kissing Marian and making love to her. Such dreams were worse than his nightmares about war, and for the first time in his life he wished to dream of blood and death. His appetite was nonexistent, and Much had to persuade him to eat something not to die from hunger.

Soon Sheriff Vaisey and Gisborne devised a new plan to capture Robin Hood and the gang. They arrested five peasants from Locksley and proclaimed that the men would be hanged, hoping to lure Robin out of Sherwood. Robin and his friends carried out a last-minute dramatic rescue and saved the peasants' lives; they fled so quickly that the sheriff and Gisborne were again left with nothing, looking like utter fools. Then Robin again disappeared from the villagers as if the earth had swallowed him up.

Once Robin heard Much and Little John discussing the turmoil in Locksley: Marian’s things were delivered  from the castle to Locksley Manor. The woman he loved lived in his house with her treacherous husband! Red-hot anger coursed through him, and he imagined a huge puddle of hot, sticky blood on his curved blade – Gisborne's blood. Anxiety overwhelmed him and anger clouded his judgment, and he wanted to run to Locksley and murder Gisborne in cold blood, without giving his enemy an honor of dying in a chivalrous fight. Little John knocked out Robin to stop him.

Robin Hood stopped delivering food and coins to the poor. He had no energy to care not only about the people, even those from Locksley, but also about himself. Several times the gang ambushed nobles and the sheriff's guards on the Great North Road, but Robin didn't participate in those missions. Little John, Much, Will, and Djaq tried to talk to him, reminding him of his duty to help the poor but Robin didn't react. He turned his back on the cause and on the people, instead wallowing in his grief.

Robin emerged from his slumber only when Will and Djaq informed him that the sheriff had ordered Gisborne to collect the full amount of the twofold monthly taxes from the villagers of Locksley and then donate money to the church. The outlaws learned that the Bishop of Hereford would take the chest with taxes in Nottingham and then ride through Sherwood. Robin and the gang were hidden amongst the branches of trees, waiting for the cart to pass on the Great North Road.

The cart surrounded by eight horsemen turned a bend of the road. The short, middle-aged man, clothed in rich episcopal garments, rode ahead the cart and behind two horsemen; he looked stout and haughty, absolutely indifferent to the sufferings of the poor. The outlaws thought that the man was the Bishop of Hereford, a well-known churchman in Herefordshire and several other shires due to his notorious reputation – he was accused of physically abusing and harassing his parishioners.

Robin frowned, his blood boiling with rage that the mighty churchman of fake decency, had stolen money from his people. "It is time for fun, lads," he said, a cheeky grin illuminating his face. "Now!"

Robin fired an arrow that slammed into the flank of one of the horses, and, whining, the animal upended its rider; then he nocked two more arrows. The outlaws released a hail of arrows while Will and Little John sent their horses down the edges of the road in a straight line. Then they rushed from their hiding place to the road to surround the overturned cart and the bishop.

"This is an ambush. We don't want to cause you any harm. We will only take what you stole from the poor," Robin declared, walking towards the bishop's horse. Suddenly, he stopped, and his eyes narrowed as he recognized Vaisey in the disguised Bishop of Hereford. It was a trap.

"Blah-di-bla-di-bla! Robin Hood! This is good! This is good!" Vaisey cried out, laughing floutingly. "What a wonderful meeting in the woods! The weather is a little cold but it will not spoil my day. It is a good time for an ambush of Robin Hood and his gang."

Robin grinned. "A nice trap, Vaisey, but it is not going to work. I promise we shall take taxes."

Vaisey scoffed. "Hood, you are so predictable. You disappoint me."

"Oh, Vaisey, Vaisey, you don't know me if you say that," Robin shot back.

"Today, Hood, you will take nothing! Do you think I will allow you to rob me? A clue: no. You and your filthy friends will spend this night in the cold dungeons," Vaisey said with great relish, grinning till his teeth glistened. "I am sorry, but you are surrounded. You won’t escape."

"I sincerely doubt that," Robin retorted cheerfully, grinning nonchalantly at the sheriff.

"This is so sweet! What a good party we will have right now and here!" Vaisey continued, his eyes full of malice. "Robin, my friend, look how many people I invited to our charming forest party." He laughed. "Oh, this is good! This is good! I will make a great public spectacle of your execution. I want your little pretty head on a silver tray on my dinner table."

Robin raised his chin, his eyes challenging the sheriff, his grin turning wider. "Don't be so sure of that, Vaisey. You risk being disappointed later."

Robin noticed more horses in the distance. Gisborne on his black stallion and his guards rode towards them; Allan was at Gisborne's left. The sudden trampling of bush and leaves on the both sides of the road foretold a tragic story, and Robin realized that they had been surrounded and significantly outnumbered.

"I would love to continue our chat, Robin Hood, but I have more pressing deals on agenda." The sheriff spurred on his horse and rode off towards Gisborne. "That’s enough, I am bored! Seize them!"

"This is your end, Hood!" Gisborne laughed.

Robin glanced around, trying to devise a plan of salvation; he saw ten guards near the sheriff and Gisborne and estimated that more than twenty guards could be hiding amongst the trees. That was worse than he had expected but better than he had seen in the Holy Land.

The outlaw laughed as the plan formed in his head. The sheriff thought that he had finally devised an excellent plan to corner and capture the outlaws, but Robin had a quick, keen mind and usually could find flaws and inaccuracies in nearly all of the sheriff's schemes. Vaisey's plan had a fundamental flaw: the outlaws were surrounded only from three sides, and there was an opportunity to retreat down the road, where the sheriff's men didn't entrap them. Robin motioned the gang to follow him as he turned on his heel and ran, ducking under arrows whizzing above his head.

"Down the road!" Robin instructed.

"You won’t escape, Hood! I will get you! I will have you alive!" Vaisey shouted, his expression changing into rage as he watched the retreating backs of the outlaws. "After them! Get them!"

At Robin's signal, the outlaws rushed to the left side of the road and hid amongst the trees. Robin swept his eyes over the woods and bushes, his gaze lingering on the old tall oak where he kept a large stock of arrows inside the hollow of a trunk. Robin crouched and crawled on the ground towards the oak; he slipped his hand into the hollow and extracted one large bag and one quiver of arrows.

Robin curved his lips into a crooked smile. "We will surprise them as we did near the cave."

"So many arrows," Little John whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Robin chuckled. "I kept them here... just in case..."

"Master, you are amazing! You are perfect! You always have an alternative plan," Much prattled.

"Exactly what we need," Djaq agreed.

"What now?" Will inquired, arching his eyebrow.

A rueful half-smile worked its way up Robin's lips as he stared down at the arrows. "We fight."

"And we kill?" John inquired, a slight tremble in his tone.

"Do you have other suggestions?" Robin’s voice was cold, dismissing any further questions.

Robin took two full quivers of arrows for himself and gave Much the bag with arrows. The number of arrows in the bag was equivalent to that in five quivers, more than enough to defeat the army of Vaisey’s guards. Much divided the arrows between the outlaws.

Robin knelt, took his recurved bow off his shoulders, and drew an arrow from his quiver. He closed his eyes briefly, taking several deep breaths before opening them once more and fixing his gaze on the road. The outlaws hid behind the bushes of white thorn waiting for their leader’s commands.

Robin watched with dispassionate eyes as the sheriff and his guards were nearing their hiding place. He heard the trampling of bush and leaves somewhere nearby and nodded at Djaq and Will. Vaisey ordered his men to find and chase after the gang. The sheriff cursed Robin Hood, threatening to find and personally kill the outlaw. Robin heard Gisborne's shouts as he ordered to search among the trees; Allan was quiet, looking around, his expression neutral.

As three horsemen appeared before his eyes, Robin shot quick looks at the others and they prepared to shoot. "Now!" Robin's rough whisper followed.

Robin peered out from his cover and targeted one of the archers that had taken shots at them as they retreated. He nocked an arrow, and the man screamed and fell, rolling over on the ground in agony and then going still. He immediately moved his bow and fired five more arrows. His aim was deadly, and more guards tumbled to the ground, arrows protruding out of their chests and necks. Arrows began to fly like a deathly cloud darkening the sun, and more men began to fall; some never made a sound, but lay still, others thrashed and screamed and cursed and wailed.

The sheriff's eyes went wide. "What is that? Hood doesn't kill!"

"He kills when he is angry," Guy amended.

"The cave…" the sheriff whispered, his expression changing into horror.

"That's right," Guy muttered with a nod.

Much and Little John released arrows at the soldiers crowded on the road, helping Robin to foil the attack from the front. Will and Djaq concentrated on firing arrows where the footsteps were heard in the woods; they often didn't see where they were shooting as the guards hid amongst the trees, but loud screams of pain were a clear sign that they succeeded in driving the enemies back.

"Hood, I swear you and your little band will have no mercy when I capture you!" Vaisey threatened. "Find them! Seize them! Kill them!"

Ducking under arrows, Vaisey spurred on his horse and rode away, followed by Gisborne and Allan. Arrows had hissed past his head, and the sheriff commanded the guards to shoot again and again. The cart was forgotten as the sheriff's men hastily retreated to avoid being struck by arrows.

"Bastard! Thief! You deserve a hangman's noose!" Gisborne fumed.

Robin noticed that he had already used all arrows from his quiver. He looked around, his gaze frantic, his face twisted in a grimace as his gaze fell on several fallen warriors convulsing in agony on the ground. An arrow buzzed past his head, so close that the fletching stroked his beard, and Robin no longer had time to do anything but fight for his life. He took an arrow from the second quiver and drew his bow, targeting the guard at Gisborne's right; he nocked an arrow and, in instant, fired again, in the same man. Robin's arrows struck that man in his neck and his heart, and his body dropped to the road.

Fearing for his own life, Gisborne shouted to retreat exactly when Much's arrows embedded themselves into the ground near his feet. Robin strung an arrow and shot it into another man's skull; then he fired several more arrows that hit the men near Gisborne and Allan into their chests and necks. Robin aimed at Gisborne, but his enemy ducked and rode away. His gaze stonily fixed at the men, Robin released more arrows, showing no mercy to the sheriff and Gisborne's soldiers.

When they were out of arrows, the outlaws sprang out from behind the bushes and flung themselves on the retreating guards, yelling as they drew their weapons and charged into the battle.

Much dispatched two men with his broadsword, his eyes frantically looking for a new opponent. Djaq blocked and parried, finishing off the guards one by one. With a loud cry of rage, Little John pummeled simultaneously several men with a movement of his giant staff, knocking them out. Will was fighting next to Djaq, attacking and knocking the weapon from his opponent’s hands.

Robin unsheathed his scimitar and, giving with a loud war cry, met the first blade with a diagonal blow, disarming his opponent and slicing him across his belly and chest. The next guard lunged at him with loud curses and threats to kill Robin Hood, but he ducked and parried a blow, then made a circular blow, spun around, and finally plunged his scimitar into the man's heart. The soldiers surrounded him from all sides, and Robin was fighting back, swinging his sword in wild, sweeping arcs and killing every enemy one by one as the frenzied bloodlust seized him.

Attacked by another man from the back, Robin barely had time to turn around and duck from a powerful diagonal blow. He launched a fierce attack on his enemy who stabbed forward with a brilliant cutting blow. He smiled, thinking that his current opponent was probably the most skilled with a sword among the guards. He lunged forward, and they circled each another. His gaze fixed at the tip of his scimitar, Robin stabbed forward and crisscrossed the blades; he took a step back and swung his blade into the man's exposed neck, then moved it down and stabbed him into his heart.

"Hood, you are a bloody hypocrite! You kill! You are a murderer!" Gisborne scoffed mildly.

Robin narrowed his eyes at Guy. "We didn't attack you – you attacked us."

"You are outlaws! You are criminals!" Guy shouted.

"You and Vaisey are traitors!" Robin snapped back. "You are getting what you deserve!"

"You will pay for this, Hood!" Guy roared in rage. "A thief! A murderer!"

Laughing, Robin blocked a blow and lunged forward, stabbing another guard into the gut; then he turned his gaze back to Guy, pointing his sword at his foe. "Gisborne, you tried to kill King Richard, left your own son to die in the forest, and killed countless innocent people. You have no right to judge others. Look at yourself at first. Aren't you disgusted with your own reflection in the mirror?"

Gisborne's cold face turned angry as Robin's taunt struck him in the heart with uncanny accuracy. He turned his gaze away and cursed under his breath. The sheriff's loud curses and sharp commands to retreat coursed through the air. Gisborne also ordered his men to follow the sheriff's guards. Trembling in fear, the surviving guards threw their bows and swords on the ground and ran away as fast as they could, as if terribly frightened of being devoured by a monster.

§§§

Looking at Gisborne’s retreating back, Robin could see only red – he wanted to kill his mortal foe. He shot an arrow that struck Guy’s horse in its flank, and the animal crumpled, then fell from under him.

Guy slid off of his horse to the ground. Clutching the hilt of his own sword, he allowed himself the luxury of a sigh of relief that he wasn’t injured by the arrow that had killed his horse. He turned his head and his gaze locked with Robin’s. Different kinds of fear warred on his face as he stared at his enemy. “Hood, damn you!” he burst out. “Do you want to kill me now, you murderer? Do you want to kill again after you murdered all my guards here?”

An angry Robin stopped a small distance from Guy, his bloodied sword drawn. “Life is full of surprises, isn’t it?” he said, his lips curled in a deadly grin, a lethal glint in his eyes. “The sheriff wanted me dead today, but it seems that someone else won’t see another sunset!” Darkness blossomed like a pall of smoke, and goodness fled – he wanted his archenemy dead as much as never before.

Guy’s face froze; his hand fell to the hilt of his sword. He hadn’t imagined he would ever see Robin Hood the killer, although he had already known that Robin can be bloodthirsty if he lost control over himself. “Out of the two of us, it will be you who won’t leave this place alive,” he forced the words out through lips stiff with fear.

Robin laughed. He made a step forward, brandishing his sword in the air. “But you think that I am dangerous, and you are afraid of me. I know that you are scared no, Gisborne.” He took a step towards Guy. “Why are you astonished that I am willing to kill today? Or do you think that I will only stop you and the sheriff from oppressing and killing innocents, always letting you live?” Rage – berserk, blind, and raw – ripped through him. He had never imagined he could be so furious. “Has it ever occurred to you that my patience has been long running thin?” he asked in a deadly voice.

“Hood, your anger is not about killing innocents – it is about Marian,” Guy said with a mocking laugh. He drew his sword. “What has hurt you more – the fact that she doesn’t want you anymore or the thought that she has chosen me over you?”

“Gisborne, I wouldn’t recommend that you fight with me now,” Robin retorted, his eyes blazing with murderous hatred. “It may be very dangerous for you.”

“I am not afraid of you, Hood!” Guy yelled. “I will kill you!”

The blades glittered in the morning sun as Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne lunged at each other and blocked each other's blows. The fight raged, Damascus steel hissing against English steel, anger simmering between the two enemies as they moved back and forward. Robin launched more and more aggressive attacks on Guy who ducked, parried, and blocked blows, mostly defending himself from his opponent who was a better fighter with a sword. The fight went on and on, and it began to look as if they would go on indefinitely.

The outlaws stood a few steps from them, watching Robin and Guy locked in a battle. Neither of them dared interfere and stop the two archenemies, knowing that every word and every plea would remain unheard and unanswered. Unlike the sheriff and other guards, Allan didn’t escape and was hiding behind a tree, observing the battle. The outlaws and Allan, now Gisborne’s man, decided to intervene only at the last moment when one of them would be about to strike a final blow.

Guy rained down on Robin a powerful overhead blow. The outlaw ducked and sidestepped, then lunged at Guy from another angle with a diagonal blow. Guy parried and attacked Robin with a chopping motion, the edge of the blade landing against Robin’s scimitar. Smiling with a venomously arrogant smile, Robin blocked and swung his scimitar in a deadly arc, and Guy was barely able to dodge from a blow. They circled each other, lunging and parrying.

Guy sliced at Robin’s neck. “Hood, you are a coward!” He parried Robin’s blow. “You cannot even say into my face how much you are hurting because now she is my wife!”

Robin directed a crisscross blow at Guy. “Something tells me that you, Gisborne, are too optimistic.” As his opponent parried, he lunged again. “I may be hurting, but I have a feeling that this marriage won’t make you happy,” he said in a cold voice, devoid of all emotions. Yet, inside his heart was breaking at the thought that Guy had taken Marian from him, but he wasn’t going to show his weakness.

“Marian and I will be happy!” Guy assured him, though his voice somehow lacked conviction. “She doesn’t love you and she doesn’t need you because she has me!” He taunted the outlaw, but there was a jealous dread in his heart, too, for he didn’t conquer Marian’s heart yet.

Rage faded from Robin’s eyes, and, unexpectedly, he found himself feeling pity for the leather-clad man who thought that he had won the battle but in fact was so deluded. He wondered how long Marian would be able to keep her relationship with him a secret from her husband. A part of him was worried about her, for he understood that repercussions against her would be severe if Guy learned the truth; a larger part of his heart didn’t care because Marian herself had made her bed and had to lie in it.

Robin laughed in response to Guy’s taunt. “You are _such a fool_ , Gisborne,” he said calmly, a new rush of pity fluttering in his chest.

“You lost her!” Gisborne shouted.

“Yes, I lost Marian,” Robin shot back as he sidestepped a diagonal blow, “but it doesn’t mean that you have her heart.” He blocked a blow and advanced forward, swinging his sword in a crisscross blow. “ _Maybe her heart doesn’t belong to you or me_.” He began to think that _Marian’s heart was divided_ and she herself didn’t know what she wanted; in his mind, he cursed her confusion.

“Marian is mine! I am her husband!” an enraged Guy bellowed as rage coursed through him. He gave a loud cry of fury and attacked Robin with wide cutting blows. “She will never be yours!”

Robin laughed as he parried another blow. He was enjoying their fight, no longer wishing to kill Guy. The fact that Guy was so deluded about Marian satiated his lust for blood. “But is she yours, Gisborne? I doubt that you have persuaded her into loving black leather that reeks with the blood of innocents whom you have killed.” He wanted to plant a seed of doubt into Guy’s mind, considering it his revenge for Marian’s betrayal, although he didn’t intend to reveal the truth about their relationship.

“Shut up! Shut up!” Guy bellowed. Gritting his teeth, he advanced at his rival.

Guy lunged at Robin, who again easily blocked a blow, laughing in his face.

“You don’t know Marian, Gisborne,” Robin declared with conviction, giving his foe a poisonously sweet smile. He deflected Guy’s attack, performed with the forte of the blade. “You don’t know her,” he reiterated for an effect.

Gisborne blocked a diagonal blow and then stabbed at the younger man with his sword. He didn’t reply straight away, his brain absorbing Robin’s words and working hard to grasp their meaning. He dragged a deep breath and tried to force his stunned wits into action. “You don’t know her either,” he replied.

“I agree with you: I don’t know the real Marian,” the leader of the outlaws admitted, his pale blue eyes turning deep blue and flashing with sadness. “I wish I knew her better, but I don’t.” He sighed. “Such is life.”

Robin and Guy traded a series of blows. Robin deflected Guy’s blow and swung his sword in an overhead blow, and Guy blocked it, advancing forward again. Robin made a parry that moved in a circle and ended up in the same position in which it started, trapping Guy’s attack coming from the right. Enraged by Robin’s sudden counter-parry, Guy stepped forward and sliced at his neck. Robin, however, predicted Guy’s attack and sidestepped the thrust, and sliced at his foe’s neck, forcing Guy to take a step back. The outlaw and the sheriff’s henchman circled each other again.

“I know her,” Guy claimed as he parried Robin’s blow.

Robin chuckled painfully. “Neither you nor I know her,” he said with the air of a man sharing prophecy. He swung his scimitar diagonally. This time, Guy failed to parry, and his broadsword slipped from his hands. “It is over. I have won.” He pointed his sword at his enemy’s throat. “As always,” he added.

“I hate you,” Guy hissed between clenched teeth.

An insanely furious Robin lifted his scimitar. “Let’s finish this once and for all,” he said in a truculent voice. The pity he had felt for Guy before perished, and he already thought that his enemy’s death could have sweet odors – the memories of his triumph that would cling to him after the deed was done.

“No!” Allan shouted as he ran towards Robin and Guy. “No, Robin!”

Robin sighed as Allan flickered in his peripheral vision. “Damn,” he cursed.

Being alarmed by Robin’s actions, the outlaws stalked towards Robin, determined to stop their leader from crossing the line. Even though they hated Gisborne, they didn’t want Robin to kill him in cold blood, suspecting that he would regret his decision later.

“Master, leave him!” Much said as he stopped beside Robin. “He deserves a worse fate!”

“Robin,” Djaq said softly, without a trace of pressure.

Allan stood, shaking in fear next to Robin. The outlaws surrounded Robin and Guy in a circle, deliberately ignoring Allan’s presence. Each pair of eyes was attached to Robin.

Robin gazed down at Guy, his mouth twisted in grief mingled with hatred, loathing, and anger, a pestilent combination of feelings. “He saved you, Gisborne,” he stated, gesturing towards Allan. He turned his head and ran his eyes over his friends. “They all saved you,” he added.

Robin released Gisborne, giving him his last hateful glance; then he rose to his feet and stalked down the road. The outlaws followed their leader, not sparing Allan a glance; only Djaq gave their former friend a tiny smile and then walked away. They couldn’t see Allan’s pitiful expression as he stared after the men whom he still considered his friends and who despised him.

Gisborne let out a small sigh of relief that the outlaws were gone. His body was shaking in fear, as if his heart were still clasped in the cold fingers of death. He hated that he had been again defeated by Hood, but at least he was alive. Before Robin had mocked Guy and enjoyed their skirmishes, but today he wanted and was ready to kill him. Never before had he been so frightened of the outlaw! Guy closed his eyes for a moment in well-bred horror at the thought that he could have already been dead.

“How are you, Guy?” Allan inquired as he crouched beside his master.

There was a bleak smile on Guy’s face when their eyes met. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I am fine.”

“Welcome,” Allan replied in honest surprise, for Guy had never thanked him before. “What would you like to do now?”

“Leave this place,” Guy said at once. He climbed to his feet and picked up his sword from the ground.

Guy and Allan had to walk by feet as there were no horses anywhere around. They both were shocked by the events of the day, the brush with death too close for their liking, though they were trying to look calm and collected for form’s sake. They didn’t utter a word until they reached the outskirts of the woods when Guy said that they would not make a stop in Locksley and would go to Nottingham.

Robin Hood didn’t go far after their enemies had left. He stood on the roadside in a solemn silence. He gasped in shock as he swept his eyes over the carnage everywhere around. It seemed, only at first glance, that more than thirty dead bodies lay on the road. Shaking his head in disbelief and still holding his scimitar in his hands, Robin marched towards the bushes where he discovered countless corpses of fallen guards, Will and Djaq's arrows sticking out of their bodies. All the guards were dead.

Robin returned to the road and walked to the outlaws waited for him. He shut his eyes for an instant and let out a sigh of relief that the sheriff, Gisborne, and the surviving guards were gone. He stopped for a moment to sheath his scimitar. Then he automatically continued walking.

"It is done. We are unlikely to have extra company today," Robin said flatly, his face unreadable, his eyes glassy, nearly lifeless.

"This is a lot harder than I thought it would be," Will said, mostly to himself.

"They cornered us. We had to kill them," Much said firmly, in defense.

"It was awful," Little John muttered.

"Like it was near the cave," Djaq added.

Robin averted his gaze. "I saw battles much worse."

They understood that Robin meant the Holy Land, and a heavy silence hung over them.

Djaq released a heavy sigh. "It is always hard to take a human life," she said very quietly, her voice no louder than a whisper. "Battles… like this… always take something from you – a kind part of you.” She sighed again. “But at times you have to kill to survive."

"You may suddenly discover that you are very good at killing. Killing may become your second nature." Robin’s expression was distant and detached, as if he were back in Acre, surrounded by carnage and seas of crimson blood spilled on the sand.

"Master, are you alright?" Much asked anxiously.

His face impassive, Robin fixed Much with a cold gaze. "I am fine. No worries."

Without saying any word and explaining anything, Robin turned on his heel and walked away. Little John followed their leader, but Much put a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from leaving.

"No, John. Leave him be," Much said.

"Did you look into his eyes? He cannot be alone now." John sounded concerned.

"I know this gaze very well," Much replied flatly. “He will be fine soon."

John wanted to ask something else, but there was such flatness and blankness in Much's eyes that he instinctively recoiled from his comrade. John wanted to say something else to Much, but something in the eyes of his friends made him hold back. They simply watched Robin for a long time.

A silence in the forest was deadly; no sounds of squirrels, birds, or crickets were heard, except for the hollow, distant sounds of torrents of the river and the deep sighs of the wind, as it passed among the trees. It seemed all the nature was mourning for souls of those whom the outlaws killed today.

“Let’s go to Robin,” Djaq told her friends after a pause. “But don’t ask him anything. Not now.”

The outlaws walked towards the cart where Robin stood motionless, looking fixedly into the emptiness. After a long pause, he said, his voice low and tense, “Let’s take the chest and carry it to the camp.” He let out a sigh of grief. “At least we have money for the villagers. At least this battle wasn’t pointless.”

They walked to the camp in silence, trying to recover emotional balance after the battle. Robin walked behind them, his expression still detached; he looked like a wolf searching for solitude to lick his wounds. Robin left the camp as soon as they got there, going to somewhere to the river.

At dusk, the outlaws lit a great fire in the camp. Much gave everyone squirrel, venison, and some fruits, but they didn't have the appetite. They sat in front of the fire, staring into the dancing flames, the images of the bloody battle playing out in their minds. They broke the code of no killing and slaughtered too many men today, for they were cornered and had to kill to save themselves. Nevertheless, it was not easy to watch and remember the carnage they created with their own hands.

Robin sat near the campfire, his eyes fixed on his scimitar that was plunged into the ground beside him. Even though the blade was clean after Much had cleaned it, he could still see only blood on his sword. His thoughts were whirling round and round in his head. That – today’s awful record of killing and bloodshed on the Great North Road – was all wrong, and yet it seemed right. Slowly, slowly, it dawned upon Robin how easy it had become for him to take a human life, and he was suddenly conscious of the crimson darkness that had resurrected and was now thriving in his heart, deepening the already immeasurable depth of his sins in the killing.

The next morning, the gang came to Locksley to distribute coins among the peasants. Although Vaisey and Gisborne were unlikely to entrap the outlaws again, Robin still wanted to ensure the safety of his friends and so he accompanied them to Locksley. Trying to stay uninvolved into communication, he watched the outlaws talk to the villagers who thanked them for the new donation. It seemed that the rumor about the bloody battle in Sherwood hadn't reached Locksley yet. Robin breathed a sigh of relief when they returned to the camp; he preferred the solitude of the woods to human companionship, trying to avoid the possibility of seeing Marian and Gisborne together in Locksley.

§§§

Robin sat on the Locksley hill, looking at his beloved village in the distance and trying to imagine what Marian was doing inside the manor. His pale skin was glowing in the rays of the setting sun that painted the sky with streaks of orange and pink. Dozens of different thoughts about Marian crowded his head, and the world compacted into his grief from the loss of Marian. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice a tall male figure that was quickly moving towards him from the side of the forest.

Someone’s hand touched his shoulder, and Robin turned his head, his gaze concentrating on the familiar face of his old war comrade – Sir Edmund of Cranfield, the Earl of Middlesex. His head was full of thick brown hair, and his skin was slightly tanned. He was tall and well built, garbed in brown attire, from his fine leather boots to the cape draping from his shoulders. His eyes were fathomless obsidian.

Edmund served in King Richard's Private Guard since he had taken the Cross in Poitou years ago. Edmund was the second-in-command to the captain of the private guard both before and after Robin's departure from Acre. Though he was several years older than Robin, they were close friends.  Edmund was _the second royal messenger_ in the past several months. After they had shared a warm friendly hug, Edmund gave Robin the letter from the King of England.

With trembling hands, Robin unrolled the parchment and broke the English royal seal – Richard Plantagenet's personal seal. The message was written by the king’s own hand, in Norman-French, their liege’s native language. Richard wrote: _"Robin, come back to the Holy Land. No delays. We need you here. We are again appointing you the captain of the private guard upon your arrival in Acre. Keep your departure from Nottingham a secret. King Richard the Lionheart."_

This message was not like the first one, in which the king had only asked Robin to recruit more men to fight in Outremer and return to Acre. Now Robin was ordered, not requested or asked, to urgently return to his king. Although he had warned Richard about Prince John's attempts to steal his throne, it seemed that war was far from its end and the king wouldn't return to England soon.

Edmund stared at Robin. "Robin, King Richard needs you in Acre, always by his side."

"Apparently, I am needed there if you came," Robin said sarcastically.

"The king’s orders, not mine."

"I know, Edmund."

"My instructions are to depart from Nottingham the next day after I find you. There is a ship that sails from Portsmouth to Acre in a week; the captain of the ship is King Richard's trusted person, we will have a safe passage and the king’s protection during our voyage."

"When did you have time to prepare for the voyage?"

"King Richard arranged everything in advance. Our king wants you to have a safe and comfortable journey; he gave me a lot of money and said that I must buy everything you wish and need. I also have all the necessary papers to make our trip fast and safe."

Robin smiled. "I should have guessed that the king would take care of everything."

"Well, our king wanted to take care of you."

Robin couldn't object and complain; he had always known that the king had favored him much more than many other knights. "Oh," he said only.

"Will you leave Nottingham with me tomorrow, Robin?"

Torn between his responsibility to the people and his loyalty to the king, Robin chose his duty. He couldn't ignore _the king’s second request_ , for it could be considered disobedience, if an act of treason. There were two most important things in his life – his love for Marian and his loyalty to the king. Marian betrayed him, but the king didn't. The king needed him, and his place was near the lion.

King Richard's request was a sort of salvation for Robin. He felt uncomfortable in Nottinghamshire and in Sherwood. He could go to Huntingdonshire, where he also had large and productive estates, each of them currently owned by Prince John as a result of his outlawing.

Robin knew that his gang would follow him wherever he went, and they could help the people of Huntingdonshire, fighting for the cause in another shire. But he knew that he would never find peace in England, for every city and village of his homeland would remind him of Marian and what he had lost. Going to the Holy Land was different, even if he could die there for the king in battle. It was easier to devote his life to the king than to stay in England, so close to Marian and Gisborne. Robin had to forget her and move on, and he had to prepare his cold revenge on Gisborne, and only the King of England could help him.

"I will," Robin pledged.

"The orders are to keep your departure confidential."

Robin shook his head in agreement. "I won't tell anybody – only my friends."

"Be careful even with your friends, Robin."

"I have to tell them," the outlaw insisted.

"Do what you see fit, but be cautious," Edmund conceded. "It is the right decision to leave."

"Indeed." Robin gave a slow, hardly noticeable nod. He remembered Marian's accusations that he loved the king more than her. He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t think so, for she betrayed him, and he owed her nothing. "How was your life in the Holy Land without me?"

"Bloodthirsty, but the king wants peace."

Robin stiffened. "As always," he said briefly.

"Everybody in the private guard misses you." Edmund put a hand on Robin's shoulder. "I have missed you."

"I have missed you too." Robin smiled. He truly missed many of his friends and comrades.

"Robin, try to find something positive in your return."

"Certainly, Edmund."

Robin suppressed a laugh. What positive would come from his return to the bloody war? He would have to leave England and his people behind, and it was possible that he would never come back. He would probably die in the Holy Land and would be buried in the desert sands instead of his family's grave in Locksley or somewhere in Sherwood. But it would be worse to stay in England and watch Gisborne and Marian living in his manor? He will never be able to endure these torments: he will either kill Gisborne or die in a combat. But if he had died before the king’s return, nothing positive can have come out of it for his people and for himself.

Edmund smiled and said, "You will have your old friends at your side."

Robin smiled vaguely. "It will be good to meet them."

"You will also meet King Richard."

"Of course, if Richard summons me to Acre." Robin smiled wistfully. He missed his liege. He adored and loved the king, his hero, the warrior king and the best military commander in Christendom, whom he knew for many years and who played a significant role in his life.

Robin had grown up without a firm male hand, governing and directing him. He had been an orphan since early childhood. His mother, Lady Elizabeth of Locksley, had died in childbirth, in several hours after his birth, and he had never seen her alive; his father, Sir Malcolm of Locksley, had perished in the fire, together with Gisborne's parents, years ago. Sir Edward Fitzwalter of Knighton, Marian's father, had acted as Robin's legal guardian since his father's death.

Sir Edward had tried to play a paternal role in Robin's life and had treated him like his own son. Edward had often criticized Robin's unusual behavior, atypical and reckless for a rich nobleman: young Robin had spent much time in the forest with Much and Marian, had been known for his wild ways and mischievous pranks, and had paid much time to activities not befitting his high station, like running around with peasant children or having regular target practice in the woods. Edward had never understood his ward's character completely whilst Robin had dreamt of having a fatherly guidance of a wise man and the need had peaked in his early adulthood.

Robin had started learning skills related to horsemanship, sword, axe, mace, dagger and lance at ten; at first, one of Malcolm of Locksley's old knights had trained him. When he had turned fifteen, Sir Edward had notified him that Prince Richard had invited him to join his knights in Aquitaine for the knighthood training under the leadership of Lord Walter Sheridan, one of Richard's most loyal knights.

Robin hadn't understood why he had had to travel to Aquitaine instead of having training in London with one of King Henry's knights, but Sir Edward had said that it had been a great honor and Robin couldn't have refused. Sir Edward had also informed Robin that he had transferred the responsibilities of Robin’s legal guardian on Prince Richard. Shocked with the news, Robin had requested explanations, but Edward had said that it had been the prince’s wish and they had owned obedience to their liege.

Robin had traveled to Poitiers, at the former court of Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, who had been held captive in England by King Henry II of England after her unsuccessful rebellion in 1173. On the day of his arrival, Robin had been introduced to Richard Plantagenet, the Prince of England, Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Poitou. Their meeting had been short and formal, but the charismatic prince had impressed Robin at the first glance.

Soon Robin had noticed that Richard had watched him with interest. When their gazes had locked, Richard had smiled at Robin with a mysterious, entrancing smile, like he hadn't smiled at his other knights. One day, watching a sparring match between Lord Sheridan and Robin, the prince had stopped the training. Richard had offered Robin to sparring with him, to everyone's astonishment, for it had been an exceptionally rare honor. Later Richard had often given Robin lessons of swordplay in the presence of other noblemen and also in private sessions; Robin had shared this rare privilege with young Robert de Beaumont, who had quickly befriended Robin.

Prince Richard had developed a deep affection for the young boy, outspoken and charming. He had discovered in Robin an interesting personality and enjoyed their interactions; he had also discovered the military potential in the young boy, encouraging him to develop it. Richard and Robin had quickly formed solid bonds of friendship and trust. The prince had understood Robin as well as no other man had done before, and, unlike Edward and many other noblemen, he had never criticized Robin for his unorthodox ways. Richard had genuinely liked watching Robin's unparalleled tricks with arrows Robin had performed during their long rides in the forests of Poitou, laughing at Robin and praising his skills with a bow. Robin's outgoing and mischievous nature had impressed Richard.

Prince Richard had offered Robin his friendship and guidance of an older man, which the young lord had craved to have. During Robin's stay in Poitou, the prince had regularly invited Robin to attend private dinners in royal chambers, and they had talked about music, literature, philosophy, and, of course, Richard's war campaigns. Robert de Beaumont had always been Robin's constant companion in their private communication with the prince. Richard had obviously favored Robin more than other knights. At the end of the knighthood training, Richard himself had knighted Robin.

During next two years, Robin hadn't met Richard. One day Sir Edward had told Robin that the prince had invited him to court in Aquitaine, to Robin's astonishment and also his great pleasure. At that time, Richard had been preparing for the war with King Henry, who hadn't wanted to recognize him as his heir and planned to concede Aquitaine to his youngest son John. Richard had planned to take the throne for himself and defeat his father by joining his army with the troops of King Philippe II of France and then making a decisive attack on King Henry's troops in Normandy.

In several days after the arrival, Robin had been summoned to Prince Richard's chambers for a private dinner. Richard had said that Robin would have to stay at court until the end of the war. Robin had been at a loss for words after the prince’s announcement: most of Richard's loyal knights had joined him in his revolt against King Henry, while Robin had been ordered to stay at court in the company of a few young noblemen. Robin had wanted to go home, but the prince had said that it would be better for Robin to spend more time with other young noblemen at court.

Together with Much, Robin had lived at court for more than a year, mainly in Aquitaine. He had also spent some time at several other Richard's castles in Aquitaine. In his free time, he had spent time studying materials about war strategies, practicing swordplay and improving his archery skills. He had also devoted much time to Aquitanian culture, music, and literature, greatly improving his knowledge in Occitan, which he had studied in his childhood, as well as in several other languages. Sir Edward and Marian had come to court and had spent two months there; then they had departed to Nottingham.

Soon the sensational news had reached Aquitaine: the forces of Prince Richard and King Philippe had defeated Henry's army at Ballans and the old king had died two days later. Soon Richard's page had arrived in Poitiers and requested an audience with the young Earl of Huntingdon. The page had handed Robin the lion's letter, in which Richard Plantagenet, the new King of England, had allowed Robin to leave Aquitaine, wishing him to have a safe journey home and saying that they would meet soon at his coronation in London.

Soon King Richard had sent to Robin his personal invitation to attend his luxurious coronation in London. Robin hadn't talked much to the newly crowned king on the coronation day as Richard had been preoccupied with a lively chat with his beloved mother, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine and had been surrounded by many celebrating nobles. Queen Eleanor had looked regal and arrogant, proud and happy, obviously happy she had finally triumphed over her husband who had held her imprisoned for a significant part of her life; she had been released by Richard immediately after Henry's death.

The massacre of Jews had started after Jews carrying handsome gifts had been refused entry by officials and pelted by mobs. Robin and his friend had tried to prevent people from being slaughtered, but many had been killed in riots and their homes had been burned. Chaos and panic had filled London, and Robin had spent the whole day helping to liquidate the consequences of the massacre.

Robin had planned to leave London for Nottingham on the day after Richard's coronation, but his plans had changed – Robin had been invited for a dinner with the king of England. King Richard had greeted his young guest with a large smile on his face and had pulled him into an affectionate embrace. The lion had ordered to serve dinner. During the evening, Richard had spoken passionately about his dream to liberate Jerusalem from the infidels for God, for England, and for his people; he had said that he would take the Cross and depart to the Holy Land after the coronation.

Robin had been fascinated by the king’s enthusiastic speech. He had discovered that he had wanted, with all his heart, to follow the charismatic and brave King of England in battle with the Saracens. He had wished to glorify his king's name and England by conquering the Holy Land. He had felt that he had had to do his duty to his country and his king. His eyes full of fire and determination, Robin had knelt to the king, and, looking straight into Richard's eyes, had given an oath of staunch fealty to his liege; then he had asked the king to take him on the Crusade.

A long, startled silence had followed. King Richard had eyed Robin with a searching, intensive gaze, astounded and somewhat lost. In a moment, the lion had risen to his feet and had extended the hand to Robin, who had seized it, letting his liege almost lift him from his knees. The King had placed his large palms on Robin's slim shoulders and had spoken a long speech about the necessity to have loyal nobles in his kingdom during the years of his absence. The king’s response had been shocking – Robin had been commanded to stay in England. Robin had protested fiercely, stating that he had had a duty to the king and his country, but Richard hadn’t reacted to his pleas and had repeated his prohibition.

It had been a difficult time for Robin. He had been torn between his duty to England and his love for Marian. He had loved Marian with all his heart and had wanted to marry her, but he hadn't been ready to settle down. He had been only eighteen and couldn't have imagined himself a father and a good husband, even if he had married Marian. Robin had craved to taste adventures and had wished to become a great warrior. Most importantly, he had wanted to become a man, not a boy lord who had been lucky to inherit his title and estates at six.

Robin had always been a man of duty, and he couldn't have stayed behind when his king had intended to wage war against the Saracens. He had made up his mind to follow the king in any case. He had intended to sneak into the king’s army and then travel behind the king’s retinue, hoping that Richard wouldn't send him back to England after discovering him among the Crusaders. He had decided to return to Locksley to prepare everything for his long absence and, of course, to talk to Marian.

Then King Richard had unexpectedly summoned him to his chambers. The audience had been short and official; surprisingly, Queen Eleanor had been there. Richard had declared that he had permitted Robin to accompany him to the Holy Land, had thanked him for his loyalty to England and the king, and had announced that he would serve in the private guard, protecting the king himself.

On the Crusade, King Richard had always kept Robin close to him. They had become very close, especially after Robin had been promoted to captain of the private guard. Robin was _Richard's protégé, his friend, his trusted companion, and one of his best generals_. Robin had received an unofficial status as _the king’s grand favorite_ , together with two other nobles in the king’s closest entourage. The king had rewarded him with many medals for his victories, but that was not what Robin valued the most in their relationship.

The king had shared with his captain his private thoughts and emotions in their frank conversations between battles, and Robin had acted in a similar manner. Richard was an intelligent and impeccably educated man, and Robin had always liked talking to the lion. Richard loved and favored Robin a great deal, and the young captain had blossomed like a flower in the desert thanks to the king’s attention and love. Robin loved his king as a king, a friend, and even as an elder brother, and Richard’s prominent role in guiding Robin to adulthood had strengthened his loyalty to the crown, as well as his personal loyalty to his liege.

Marian and the outlaws were wrong that Robin's love for the king was blind: he understood that his liege was not only a noble warrior and a great military commander but also a ruthless ruler, capable of doing anything for his benefit and interests, especially in wartime. Truth be told, Robin feared to experience Richard's wrath at himself, for he knew how cruel and vengeful the king could act towards his enemies and those who offended him or his family. Now Robin feared that the king would be displeased with his delay in England, clinging to hope that the king would be sympathetic to him.

A long silence stretched between them. Edmund of Cranfield broke the oppressive silence.

Edmund stared at Robin. "What are you thinking of?"

"How is King Richard doing? I bet Carter told him about my adventures here."

"Indeed, Carter talked to the king."

"And?" Robin asked impatiently.

Edmund flashed a smile. "Carter was fascinated with your boldness. You impressed and inspired him."

"Don't flatter me." Robin's eyes twinkled in mischief. "And Richard? Was he angry with me?"

"He listened to Carter's long tale with great attention."

"What was his reaction, Edmund?"

"Richard expected you to return at his first request," Edmund said evenly. "I don't know whether he was angry or not. He rarely shows his true emotions."

Robin smiled as the image of the golden-haired lion flickered in his mind. "Power and leadership, not emotions, are a king’s prerogative."

"Don't worry. You will easily sort out your differences."

"I hope so," Robin said irresolutely.

Edmund smiled. "The king was very grateful to you for information about the Black Knights and plots against him. Even if you did displease him, you won't lose his favor."

"Royal favor is fickle," Robin remarked.

"Not in your case."

The outlaw arched a brow. "Who knows?"

"You will see that it will be fine," Edmund stated with confidence.

Robin's face turned serious. "Now explain why our king needs me so urgently. What happened?"

Edmund's gaze was pensive. "It is a long story."

Edmund smiled at his friend who was completely oblivious of the king’s true intentions. King Richard decided to recall Robin to Acre for many reasons. The king needed Robin for the protection of his life, for Robin was the best candidate for the position of his main man. Besides, Richard feared that Robin could have been brutally murdered by the Black Knights.

Richard had never voiced concern about Robin. But Edmund, who worked as the king’s personal spy, had learned to look through the façade of his liege's unemotional face. The king had been worried about Robin's safety when the young captain had gone for risky missions or had been especially foolhardy in battles. Wishing to protect Robin, the king had ordered Edmund and three other members of the private guard to cautiously watch Robin in battles, protecting him from dangers. Edmund himself had received three scars protecting Robin at Richard's request. That proved better than anything else how much the king cared for Robin. Amusingly, Robin didn’t know how deeply the king loved him, considering him more a relative than a loyal subject and a close friend.

Though King Richard had several favorites, Edmund thought that their liege loved Robin the most. Edmund often wondered why Richard loved Robin so much, thinking that there was something subtle in this love, something more than affection for a close friend. There were rumors that Richard preferred men and bedded his favorites, but Edmund, the king’s favorite himself, was aware that it was a lie.

Robin faced a sophisticated dilemma – he found it difficult to imagine what the outlaws would do after his departure to the Holy Land. He didn't know what to say to his friends and how to justify his decision to return to Acre. He wasn't sure that they would understand and support him. He decided to be straightforward when he returned to the outlaws’ camp after the meeting with Edmund.

"I have a plan for tomorrow. Well, this time, a whole plan," Robin began cautiously.

The outlaws turned their attention on their leader and stared at him.

"What, Master?" Much asked.

"I am departing to the Holy Land in the morning," Robin declared curtly, in a booming voice.

Everybody was stunned. Nobody anticipated hearing that from Robin.

Much blinked in disbelief. "Master, are you kidding us? Surely, you would not prefer desert, heat, and bloodshed to our wonderful Sherwood and helping the poor?"

"I must go back to Palestine. I cannot postpone my departure," Robin said with hard directness.

Djaq arched a brow. "What is going on?"

Much shook his head in disbelief. "Master, did you sleep well today? Maybe the makeshift bed is too hard for your comfort? We can always arrange something for your comfort!”

Robin shot Much an annoyed look. “Much, please!”

"Robin, I know that you are not yourself after Marian's wedding, but you cannot abandon the people in Locksley and in the neighborhood," Will voiced his displeasure.

"Don't make hasty decisions, Robin," Little John interfered. "You are Robin Hood, the people’s only hope to survive."

"We are Robin Hood," Will proclaimed.

"We are Robin Hood," others repeated, but Robin remained silent.

Robin sighed. Images of bloody battles and grim emotions were hurrying upon him, for the decision to go back to Acre was not an easy one. He tried to mask his distress and anxiety, though his true state could be discerned in the twitchings of his mouth. "I have responsibilities to the people, but I also have my duty to the king." He rubbed his cheek. "Today, I received a message from King Richard. It was carried by Sir Edmund of Cranfield, the Earl of Middlesex."

"And what does the king want?" Much asked.

"I am recalled back to the Holy Land," Robin declared.

Will averted his eyes, sighing deeply. "Are you sure that the message is not counterfeit?"

Much shrugged. "Edmund of Cranfield fought alongside us in Acre. The message is authentic unless Edmund is the Black Knight and conspired with the sheriff to bring us down."

Robin laughed. "Much, at least now you show some logic."

Much inwardly winced. He was accustomed to unfair treatment by Robin, and he still loved his former master. "At least," he mumbled, swallowing his irritation.

"Edmund was my close friend in the Holy Land. Several times he saved my life," Robin said.

"Robin, everything can happen. It can be a trap," Will voiced his fears.

"Edmund is a friend, not an enemy," Robin assured everyone. "He arrived in England only because he carried the king’s message. The letter is written by the king himself and stamped with his personal seal. Prince John doesn't have this seal in England."

Much's eyes locked with Robin's. "What will you do in Palestine?"

"I am again appointed the captain of the king’s private guard upon my return," Robin continued. He trailed off and cleared his throat. "Numerous regicide attempts took place in the past months."

Much looked concerned. "Is everything so serious?"

Robin gave a nod. "King Richard is alive, and assassins won't stop. Edmund told me that the number of assassination attempts on the king’s life had nearly tripled. The worst is that we don't know who organizes regicides – Saladin or English conspirators. Moreover, the king also wants me back because I have valuable information about Prince John's plots. I will have to investigate the Black Knights' plots and find their allies in the Holy Land."

"I see." Will emitted a heavy sigh. He wasn't fond of Robin's decision to depart to the Holy Land again, but nothing could change Robin's mind. Like Marian, Will didn’t understand Robin's almost fanatical loyalty to the king who cared more about foreign wars than about his own people.

"This I do not like, but I can understand," Little John muttered.

"I am saying nothing… I am saying nothing…" Much mumbled.

"I think that the Black Knights are behind these assassination attempts," Djaq opined. "Gisborne may also be involved."

Robin felt a lump forming in his throat, and he swallowed hard. "Vaisey and Gisborne definitely know about these attempts. One day they may again come to Acre and try to murder the king." He gnashed his teeth. "After all, Gisborne attempted regicide once. I still remember how he stabbed me and then I stopped him before it was too late."

Much beamed, feeling proud of Robin's heroic deeds. "You saved the king’s life then! You are a hero!"

Robin smiled. "I just did my duty to my King."

"Maybe we should stop the Black Knights here, in England," Will suggested, still holding hope that they could resolve the matters in any other way. "We need to have more information about their deals. We can contact our spy in the castle."

A smile immediately vanished from Robin's face. "We will never cooperate with Marian again. She switched sides, and I don't want to hear her name again."

Much coughed nervously. "Allan is working for Gisborne. He may betray Marian."

Robin's eyes darkened. "I don't care. Marian made her choice, and it is Gisborne's responsibility to care for her safety. We have enough troubles without this lady." His voice was so cold that his friends flinched at his words. "Everything is a choice. Everything we do. I made my choice a long time ago – I am the king’s loyal man."

"Robin, she may be in danger from Gisborne," Much assumed.

"Much, shut up!" Robin shouted, a scowl forming on his forehead. “I don't want to hear anything about Marian. If you want me to forget her, don’t mention her." He cared about Marian, but he was too busy thinking of the king’s fate. Moreover, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and he owed her nothing after her cruel betrayal.

"I am sorry," Much muttered under his breath, blushing.

Djaq looked at Much. "Much, Robin doesn't want to talk about Marian, and you shouldn't annoy him."

Much flushed, taking Djaq's words as an implied rebuke. "Fine, fine! I am saying nothing."

In reality, Djaq was also worried about Allan's possible betrayal. She also understood that the topic was immensely painful for Robin and that it would be better to act as Robin wished. Although she was deeply displeased with the news of Marian's marriage to Gisborne and even doubted the sincerity of the woman's feelings for Robin, she still feared what the Black Knight would do to her, even if he learned about the Nightwatchman and about her affair with Robin Hood.

"Thank you, Djaq," Robin said with gratitude.

"You are welcome." Djaq shot him a grin.

A heavy silence hung over them. Everybody looked at Robin whose gaze was wandering around the forest instead of focusing on the faces of the gang members.

"Robin, do you really have to leave?" Will broke the silence.

"I cannot disobey the king again. I swore my fealty to him, and I will keep my word," Robin responded.

"You will have to kill," Will continued. "Do you truly want this?"

"No, I don't want to kill. I saw too many horrors in the Holy Land, and they will never leave me – war is always in my head in dreams," Robin said grimly, putting his finger to his temple. He turned his gaze at Djaq, a silent apology flickering in his eyes. "But I cannot disobey the king." He sighed. "There is something else. I see that our efforts here are not enough to save the people from tyranny. We cannot depose Sheriff Vaisey and Prince John. We must bring King Richard back to England – only the king can deal with Vaisey and the prince. That's why I have to go back to Acre."

Little John glared at Robin. "But what will we do with the villagers here?"

"I don't want to forsake the poor, but it doesn't mean that I must stay in Nottingham," Robin said honestly. "I am afraid that something may happen to King Richard. If he dies in Acre, Prince John will ascend the throne and, thus, we will live in tyranny forever. Stakes are too high, and I must set priorities. King Richard is England's only hope. I cannot stay here and let somebody kill the king."

"Master, am I coming with you?" Much questioned.

"I may go alone," Robin presumed.

"No, I will be always by your side," Much swore.

Robin smiled. "Thank you, Much. You can join the private guard. They requested that I bring reinforcements, after all."

It was a very difficult question for them. Little John, Will, and Djaq couldn't help the poor alone: the gang of three people could be easily captured and executed. The outlaws were confused.

"The gang should be disbanded because three men cannot fight against the sheriff," Will commented.

Robin's fingers played with his bow. Then he relinquished his hold of his bow that tumbled on the ground. "I agree."

Much glanced at Robin. "What are we going to do?"

"I cannot ask all of you to join me in my mission." Robin was truly puzzled.

"But we cannot also stay here." Little John rolled his eyes.

A sullen silence followed. Only their breathing and sounds of forest animals interrupted the silence.

"Then, we will go with you," Will offered. "But I won't serve King Richard."

Robin gave Will a glance of pure understanding. "And I don't ask you to."

Will nodded. "Thank you, Robin."

Djaq hated war in the Holy Land, but she also wanted to go home. It was her chance. "While I understand that you must serve the king, I cannot say that I am happy with it." She drew a deep breath. "Duty is important, especially if the king is fighting for peace that might be ruined by his own subjects." She accepted Robin's choice. "Will and I will stay in Acre at my uncle's house, for I don't want Will to fight against my kinsmen."

"Thank you for understanding, Djaq." A tremulous smile hovered over Robin's lips. "The king plans to end the Crusade. My mission is to protect him and work for peace."

Djaq smiled gladly. She dreamed of peace at home for so long. "That’s good."

"Robin, I will follow you," Little John claimed. "I have never served the king, but it is my chance to try, although I don't deny that I would feel more comfortable helping the poor." He grinned. "Maybe I will have a moment of glory in Acre."

Robin snorted. "There is no glory in bloodshed."

Much stared at Robin. "When are we leaving?"

"Edmund will be waiting for me in the outskirts of Nottingham tomorrow, at dawn," Robin informed.

"How long will it take to get there?" Will rubbed his left cheek.

"If the weather is good and if we don't need to stop for repairs, in three-four weeks we will reach the shores of Portugal and Spain. Then we will cross the Mediterranean Sea, which can take us around seven-eight weeks or a little more. If there is a storm in the sea, we may need repairs, and it might considerably affect the duration of the journey," Djaq said monotonously.

Robin flicked his head in an annoying gesture, looking charming and a little dangerous. "It will be a difficult and long trip. Be prepared."

The outlaws awoke in the early morning hours, just as the sky was growing light. They packed their things and prepared to leave Nottingham, the forest, and the camp, probably forever. Everyone silently said farewell words to Sherwood and Nottingham. While the outlaws were busy with preparations, Will and Djaq wanted to sneak away and go somewhere; they said that they would return soon, but Robin guessed their intention and stopped them in time.

"Lads, please don't leave," Robin began cautiously; his voice made them pause and turn around, looking at Robin in astonishment.

"What, Robin?" Djaq asked.

"Allan," Robin said. "I know that you are going to find him."

Djaq blinked. "I… I wanted–"

"I know where you were going," Robin said, a note of warning in his voice. "You have a soft spot for Allan and you are worried about him, but he should know nothing about our departure."

Djaq stiffened. "Because the king doesn't want that?"

"Yes," Robin confirmed. "The king’s instructions were to keep my departure confidential. Everything must be done secretly and cautiously."

"Alright. We won't try to find Allan," Djaq agreed.

"Thank you," Robin said, smiling at them. "We are surrounded by traitors, some of them unknown to us. This is the reason why I don't want Allan to know; he became their enemy.

Djaq arched a brow. "You fear that Allan may inform Gisborne that the king recalled you back to the Holy Land.”

"Yes," Robin confirmed. "The Black Knights will know that it is much more difficult to kill the king if I am the Head of the Guard. I cannot put the king’s life in more danger."

"Robin, Allan will learn nothing from Djaq or me," Will assured him. "I am sorry that we wanted to try to find him." He understood Robin, but he was also concerned about Allan's fate.

Robin smiled. "Thank you."

"Allan is a traitor," Little John grumbled as he came to them and stood behind.

"We cannot trust him at all. He shouldn't know where we are going," Much agreed.

"I liked him a lot, and it is true that he hasn't betrayed us completely. But we cannot trust him, especially if the king’s life is in danger," Robin said with finality in his voice.

In an hour, they would leave Nottingham, and perhaps they would never come back. Robin was gloomy and unusually quiet, looking around, his eyes taking in the greens of the forest which showed the pale underside of their leaves against the rosy sky. Robin looked as if there were a spell upon him, and each of the outlaws was in a state of uncertainty as to how they should treat Robin. The choice – Robin’s choice and their choice too – was made, and they accepted the consequences. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marian is slowly adapting to her new role of being Guy's wife. Of course, she is comparing Robin and Guy as she tries to understand why she married Guy and what pushed her away from Robin.
> 
> The outlaws are cornered by the sheriff, and they must kill to survive. Robin kills and kills, mercilessly and automatically. He is angry and heartbroken after Marian's betrayal, and killing the guards is his way to take revenge on Guy for Marian’s betrayal. Of course, he also has to kill to survive and save his friends. So he becomes a soldier, and the undercurrent darkness resurfaces.
> 
> The scene of the bloody fight mirrors the scene of the fight near the cave when Robin thought Marian was dead and the sheriff and Gisborne cornered the outlaws; they killed almost all the guards then, and Vaisey and Guy fled the forest in panic. This time, Robin and his friends again killed all the guards, and Robin even almost killed Guy after the battle was over.
> 
> There is much information about Robin's relationship with King Richard. Robin has known Richard Plantagenet for many years: he met Richard in Poitiers when he was fifteen and when he had his knighthood training. Richard liked Robin and offered the young lord his friendship. The idea is that Richard played a prominent role in Robin's life and upbringing, and that explains Robin's unconditional and staunch loyalty to the king.
> 
> Robin decided to return to the Holy Land because he is recalled back to Acre by the King of England.. He is very loyal to his people and wants to protect them, but the king’s life is in danger and he feels it is his duty to protect his liege. Robin is very loyal to the king and considers him England's last hope. Besides, there is nothing that ties Robin to Nottingham after Marian's marriage to Guy, and he is intent on leaving the place where he felt so much pain.


	3. A Journey to the Holy Land

**Chapter 3**

**A Journey to the Holy Land**

Robin Hood and the outlaws left the outlaws’ camp at dawn and headed to the southern gates of Nottingham, where Edmund of Cranfield met them. They didn't tell anyone about their departure from England. Allan also didn't know that the outlaws left Sherwood.

During their journey to Portsmouth, the outlaws were tongue-tied, and only Edmund of Cranfield enthusiastically talked about Robin’s escapades in England. Edmund was stunned that Sheriff Vaisey had dared outlaw Robin and hadn’t even considered his high station: even though Robin’s status of the king’s favorite could have been ignored in King Richard’s absence in England, the Earl of Huntingdon still was one of the premier and powerful earls of the realm and a distant cousin of the Plantagenet royal family. Edmund had always adored Robin's personal sense of justice and code of honor, and he easily understood why Robin had repudiated his title and wealth and had saved four innocent men from hanging. Robin told Edmund the whole story in details.

Edmund knew Robin Hood’s story as Carter had given the king a long tale about Robin’s adventures in the woods. Besides, the king had charged Edmund, his personal spy, with the task of investigating the environment in Nottinghamshire by collecting information about Robin Hood and his gang, learning the people's opinion about the sheriff's regime, and assessing the risks of rebellion in the shire. After his arrival in Nottingham a couple of days before his meeting with Robin, Edmund had investigated the situation in Nottinghamshire; he had also learned that Marian had recently married Sir Guy of Gisborne, and he didn't need to question why Robin was so reserved and strangely detached.

Robin and his friends had a quick ride through the countryside. They made only a few stops, and the voyage was smooth and uneventful; they boarded the ship immediately after their arrival in Portsmouth.

The outlaws were full of anxiety and agitation: the trip to the Holy Land held the most exquisite meanings for each of them. Djaq was happy that she would see her homeland and her relatives soon, but there was trepidation in her heart as to what was going to happen to her and Will after their arrival in Acre.  Will was delighted that he would be able to visit Djaq's homeland and probably stay there with her permanently. Will and Djaq didn’t like that Robin, Much, and Little John would serve in the king’s private guard, but they didn’t voice their displeasure.

Unexpectedly, Little John found himself in elevated spirits as he wanted to fight in a real war. Having lived many years as an outlaw in the forest, John had never been a soldier before, and he thought that now he had a good chance to do something selfless and useful for Christian pilgrims and for his country. Always loyal to Robin, Much didn't have a shadow of a doubt to again join the Crusade, although he disliked the idea from the beginning. He didn't want to fight at war again, but he couldn't leave Robin, especially when he was so vulnerable and devastated. Robin wouldn't have survived another betrayal, and he couldn't leave his master whom he loved more than himself.

The journey was long and tiresome. As they didn't opt for a partly overland route through France, they sailed from Portsmouth, passed by the shores of France, Spain, and Portugal, and then entered the Mediterranean Sea through the Pillars of Hercules, setting a course for the port of Acre as their final destination. Although the ship was small, all cabins were rather spacious. They didn't make many stops, excluding one stop in Palermo to replenish with fresh water and food.

During their sea voyage, Robin avoided anyone’s company. Happy to have his own cabin instead of sharing it with someone else, he wanted to be in a solitary confinement of cabin, and he was annoyed by his friends' constant attempts to comfort him and cheer him up. He ate only a little and regularly missed meals served on the deck or in the spacious cabin where the gang often gathered in afternoons. Robin was withdrawn and somber, and he spoke a little; when Little John and Will asked him about his service in the Holy Land, Robin sent them to Much with all their questions.

At night, Robin was in a state between sleeping and waking: he was depressed to sleep and also too willing to plunge himself into oblivion. That strange combination of feelings, which hung over him like a whimsical apprehension of some catastrophic twilight of his future, prevented him from relaxing and developing any closeness with his friends. At times exhaustion caught up with him and he fell asleep, but his sleep always was restless and he was haunted by nightmares about his years in the Holy Land.

Suffering from insomnia, Robin spent nights staring at the ceiling of his cabin. He felt as though he had been captured and caged in his small cabin. When it became unbearable to tolerate confined space, he rose to his feet and hastily put on his forest garb. Then he walked out of the cabin and went to the deck to breathe in the sea air, crisp and salty. He always liked the sea, stormy or calm: it strangely calmed down his nerves and gave him a feeling of placidity and completeness.

One of such nights, Robin again went to the deck. He stood there, staring into the darkness. He closed his eyes, and a shuddering sigh tumbled from his lips. As always, he was thinking about Marian – their second betrothal, her subsequent betrayal, and her marriage to Guy of Gisborne. His thoughts were churning, following no pattern, but even in that chaotic mess he still had some things he wanted to understand. How could Marian marry Guy after accepting his marriage proposal and confessing her love for him? How could she choose _Guy, the antithesis to everything Robin thought she stood for and they fought against_?

He imagined her beautiful face, her large expressive blue eyes that were visibly so innocent and yet so deceitful, and, for the first time in his life, he thought that he hated her. No matter how hard he persuaded himself that he hated Marian and was over her, that she mattered nothing to him, he knew that he lied to himself. His love for her was as boundless as the sea. He hated and loved her.

Never before had Robin thought that a man could suffer so much from the loss of love. His mind was in a great turmoil, and he couldn’t tell where the pain started and ended. It was all entwined, pain enmeshed in his awareness, in his entire life, clutching and scrabbling at the edges of his sanity. His emotions were on the brink of exploding, and he could feel anguish pushing the threshold, fearing to lose himself in an ocean of pain and despair. He was sure that a part of him was dead. He lived among the dark clouds of pain and agony and hatred, feeling as though he had descended into hell.

“Marian, why? Why did you marry him?” a disconsolate Robin whispered. The darkness that surrounded him in itself held a menacing meaning, akin to the darkness in his heart at that moment, the affliction that soured his thoughts, the desperation that caused his frightening thoughts and desires.

“Robin, my friend, is a beautiful woman a reason for your insomnia?" a familiar voice spoke.

Robin felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to face Edmund. "You are right, of course. You know me too well," he said in a steel, indifferent tone, a familiar thing for his friends since their departure from Nottingham.

Edmund sighed. "What happened, Robin? How can I help you?"

Robin laughed. "Nobody can help me."

"Tell me your story. I feel you need an ear and an advice."

"I prefer not to talk about that, Edmund."

"As you wish, Robin."

Robin smiled as his gaze wandered across the dark blue waters of the sea. "How beautiful the sea is!"

"And let us thank God for calm seas. We shall be in Acre sooner than we planned."

For a long while, they were both silent thinking of the war in the Holy Land and desperate battles that were continuing for so many years.

"Robin, will you be alright in the Holy Land?" Edmund asked cautiously.

Robin sniffled. "Do you doubt my ability to lead the guard?"

"No. I was mainly concerned how you would adapt to war again."

"I will rapidly adjust. I will be fine," Robin promised.

"I hope so," his friend responded.

"Who was captain of the private guard now while I was away?"

"Sir James of Lambton."

Robin was astonished. "I would have never guessed. As my second-in-command, you were the obvious choice to head the guard after my departure to England. King Richard could also appoint Aubrey de Vere, William de Mowbray, Patrick of Bradford, or someone else of his most loyal knights. Why did the king choose James?"

"James once saved the king's life in battle. In gratitude, King Richard made him the head of the king’s private guard, and I remained his second-in-command," Edmund elaborated. "He is deadly with a sword and good with a bow." He cleared his throat. "The king's decisions are unquestionable."

"The king is beyond any reproach," Robin declared. However, he didn't think that Richard's decision was a smart one. But a king was a king. "I have never liked James. There has always been something… erm… dark in him. He is a sly man."

"I agree," Edmund retorted. He smiled. "Soon we will have our beloved captain in charge. Everyone will be happy to have you back."

Robin's blue eyes sparkled. "And you will be my second-in-command."

The older man smiled. "Really?"

Robin winked at him. "Robin Hood gives you his word."

“I will be happy to serve under your command again."

The outlaw pursed his lips. "James wouldn't be happy with the shift in power."

Robin and Edmund didn't know that James of Lambton was a traitor to the crown. He had saved King Richard's life to gain royal favor and to be promoted within the private guard, and he had succeeded. James had been bought by Sheriff Vaisey several years ago and since then spied on King Richard in the Holy Land. His position of captain of the guard gave him an opportunity to gather much invaluable information for the Black Knights.

"Certainly."

Edmund chuckled. "James will have to become a guard or leave for England with commendation."

"Maybe." Robin shrugged. "How is Carter doing?"

"Our liege holds Carter in high regard and values his opinion. He joined the private guard only recently and already earned the king's favor. Carter wanted to become a Knight Templar, like his brother Thomas, but the king discouraged him."

Robin smiled. "I am glad that the king likes Carter. He is a good friend of mine." If somebody had told Robin that he would call Carter his friend after the man had tried to kill him in the barn in order to take his revenge on him for the crime he hadn't committed, Robin would have laughed at himself at the top of his lungs. On that day, Robin had had a chance to kill Carter, but he had spared his life and now he was happy that he had a new friend.

“Good.”

"Is Robert, the Earl of Leicester, still in Palestine? I miss him."

King Richard had three grand favorites and several favorites. The grand favorites were: Henry II of Champagne, or Henry I of Jerusalem, the nephew of both King Philip of France and King Richard of England; Sir Robin Fitzooth of Locksley, the former captain of the king's private guard and the Earl of Huntingdon; and Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, captain of the second guard and Robin's close friend. The king loved Henry, Robin, and Robert most of all among his knights.

"Leicester still is captain of the second guard. If I am not mistaken, he must be on Cyprus at this moment. The king charged him with the task of conducting negotiations with Guy de Lusignan."

A surprised Robin asked, "What are they negotiating?"

Edmund shrugged. "I don't know. We will stop on Cyprus, and you will meet Leicester earlier than your other comrades."

"I will be happy to see Robert."

Edmund grinned. "Leicester and you were like a hand and a glove. You are two beloved knights, each with a cheeky grin on the face!"

"Is Leicester still the king's grand favorite?"

"Yes, he is." Edmund laughed. "You are his only rival for the king's love, and you know that very well. Maybe Carter may soon become the king's grand favorite, but you and Leicester will always have a special place in the king's heart."

"I doubt that we have a special place in the king's heart," Robin objected. He cherished their friendship, but he had never pondered over the roots of the king's attention to him.

Edmund grinned. "Come on, Robin. Stop denying the apparent."

Robin didn't reply, and Edmund uttered no word. Robin narrowed his eyes and inhaled the sea air. The lingering salty air filled his nostrils and traveled to his lungs. Wrapped in his thoughts about the Holy Land, he outstretched his hands and shut his eyes. He inhaled and exhaled sharply, then his hands went to his sides; he opened his eyes and stared into the darkness.

Robin had a strange sensation that the sea was filling his body with the life force of nature. He could forget about his troubles and hardships at least for a little while, his soul melting away into the sweet darkness and midnight breeze that carried the taste of the sea to his lips. His breath caught in his chest as time seemed to slow. Robin inhaled the scent of the sea air and felt a gentle touch of the chilly night air on his skin. He savored a short yet blissful moment of excited happiness and drank in the lush beauty of the dark sea and the night sky.

“Master! Master!” Robin heard behind his back.

Robin turned his gaze at Much who appeared on the deck a moment ago. “Much,” he said softly.

"Master, you are not sleeping!" Much exclaimed as he stopped near Robin and Edmund. He came to the deck to check whether Robin had again suffered from insomnia. "You must go to sleep. You don't sleep and don't eat! You are killing yourself! You will wear yourself out!"

"Much is right, Robin," Edmund agreed.

Robin turned to Much, his eyes blazed with the imps of rage in the moonlight. "Much, I am not a child who needs your constant care. Don't annoy me."

Much shook his head. "No, you are unable to look after yourself. You need my care." As Robin didn't say anything, Much went on. "I am saying nothing," he squeaked. "Nothing, Master."

Robin averted his eyes, staring into the darkness. "Good, Much – keep silent about me needing your care. You have a very long tongue, and at times I am tempted to cut it. Then you won’t be able to sing and frighten even children with your ill-chosen songs," he said in flute-like tones of sarcasm.

Much looked like a bird that swallowed a worm too big for it. Robin's words hurt him. He knew that his former master could say unpleasant and hurtful things when he was frustrated, not truly meaning them. He never said anything to Robin About treating him like a servant, not as an equal. "It is again Marian," Much nearly groaned, and put a comforting hand on Robin's shoulder.

"You are right, Much." Robin gave a nod.

"I knew that his agony is due to Marian’s betrayal," Much declared, proud that his guess was right. "Master, I know that you hate Marian for her betrayal and marrying your sworn enemy, but you have to move on. You hate Marian and Gisborne, but you cannot let this hatred overwhelm your noble heart. You cannot dwell on the past for so long, or it will destroy you."

Robin didn't reply straight away, turning away from Much and Edmund. Stillness enveloped the ship as each of them was lost in thoughts.

§§§

Staring at the water, Robin chuckled, wondering if he was looking at the dark sea or at the abyss inside himself. It would have been better for him to go away and avoid conversations about Marian, but he had felt no impulse to do that. On the contrary, he had a horrible inclination and an urgent need to stay and talk to his friends. His pain was too much to handle: it had already come to the point where he had again begun to think of death. Robin needed to vent his pain, and, in the process, he learned to share his emotions with those who loved him.

When Robin finally turned to his friends, his face was unguarded – all his pain and heartache were plain on his handsome features. "You are right. I do hate Marian and Gisborne." He sighed. "I hate Marian, but I love her as well." He paused, thinking. "Probably I hate her even more than I love her."

"Master, Lady Marian betrayed not only you, Robin, but also what we are fighting for – King Richard, England, and the people," Much twittered.

“I know, Much. She betrayed everything we believed in,” Robin said in a low, throaty voice. His heart was pounding so violently that all he could hear was its dull thudding.

"Robin, I have no right to judge anyone, but I see how much you are hurting," Edmund intervened. "If it can make help you, you should consider Lady Marian a traitor, and traitors worth nothing."

"Forget her, Master. Forget her," Much appealed.

Robin shook his head, opened his mouth as if to say something, shut it again and made a helpless gesture with his hands. "I cannot simply forget Marian just because I want to stop thinking of her. She is like a thorn that causes an exquisite pain and a tantalizing agony to my mind and heart."

Edmund clapped Robin's shoulder. "Robin, I don't know the whole story, and I won't ask you unless you wish to talk. But I agree with Much that you have to forget. Don't ruin your own life just because the stupid and hypocritical woman who betrayed you."

"Lads, I hate Marian, but I still hate Gisborne more," Robin said.

“Why? You should hate Marian and Gisborne equally!” Much exclaimed, amazed. “Marian betrayed you! She betrayed your love for her! She betrayed her promise to marry you! She betrayed all of us by marrying Gisborne!” He sighed bitterly. “At least, Gisborne didn’t betray you, Master. We have known that he is a traitor to the king since you discovered a black wolf's head tattoo on his forearm. We have known that he was a murderer since childhood, for many years. ”

Robin nodded. “You are right, Much. Gisborne became a murderer when he was very young.”

Edmund’s eyes darted between Robin and Much. “There is something I don’t know about this Gisborne?”

“Many things, Edmund,” Robin said with a sad, enigmatic smiles on his lips.

“Gisborne murdered Robin’s father and his own parents!” Much exploded.

Robin reached out for Much’s forearm and gripped it. “Much, please speak quieter. I don’t want anyone to overhear us.”

Edmund’s expression changed into abashment. “What did Gisborne do?” He blessed himself with a cross. “Did this traitor really kill Sir Malcolm Fitzooth of Locksley, 6th Earl of Huntingdon?”

“No, no. The situation was a little different,” Robin amended in a low voice. “Gisborne didn’t murder my father deliberately: he started the fire accidentally.”

“Bless my soul!” Edmund’s face evolved in sheer shock.

“Damn Gisborne!” Much nodded.

“You see, lads, there are many reasons why I hate Gisborne.” There was an unhealthy air about Robin: his face was pale and almost lifeless, his lips dry and bloodless. Yet, his pale blue eyes blazed with a dark blue flame of anger. "I hate Gisborne because he started that damned fire that consumed my father!” His voice, previously cold, was now edged with black fury. “I hate him for taking my father from me and for bringing so much misery in my life!”

Affected by the revelation, Edmund took a shallow breath. “Robin, I do understand you.”

Robin clenched his teeth as his eyes darkened, blazing with a lurid blue flame. “I hate Gisborne not only because he accidentally murdered my father, took my lands and title, and married Marian.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I myself gave up my lands and title. He took Marian away from me not without her willingness.” He drew a deep, deep breath, holding it for a long time. Then his breathing became erratic, as if he were breathing with hatred. “Gisborne caused the deaths of many people who were very dear to me, including my poor father.” His voice deepened. “This man terrorized and killed my people in Locksley. He cut their fingers and hands. He made them starve. He killed them. He murdered and tortured too many innocent people." His voice took a higher octave. "There is no shred of pity in my heart for Gisborne. I can only loathe and hate him.”

"Gisborne is the lowest scum on earth," Much interjected.

Robin narrowed his eyes to slits as a wave of hot anger slashed through him. "Gisborne organized the Saracen raid and tried to murder King Richard. On that night, five of my men in the private guard were killed by the Saracens, and at least two of them died at Gisborne’s hand. Matthew and Patrick guarded the king's tent, and Gisborne took their lives to enter.” He shook his head, as if he were still trying to believe that it had actually happened. “He killed them while I was bleeding into the sand after he had wounded me from the back, like a coward.”

“Robin, you hadn’t seen Gisborne before he stabbed you, had you?” Edmund asked, interested.

“No.” Robin shook his head angrily. “Gisborne approached me from the back when I was shooting arrows at his accomplices. He stabbed me, and I felt the white-hot pain in my left side. I fell to the sand, and then Gisborne emerged from the darkness, running towards the king’s tent.” He sighed. “I nocked an arrow, but I missed as the pain in my side was too great… and… my vision was blurred. Still, I released an arrow – I had to try.”

“Oh, Robin…” Edmund gave Robin a sympathetic glance.

Robin gazed at the dark sea. “When he stabbed me, I was sure that I was dying. It was my first grievous injury at the war.” He swallowed heavily. “I still dream of that Saracen attack. I often see myself in the desert wounded by the tall masked Saracen – by Gisborne.” He tugged nervously at the collar of his forest green doublet. “In such moments, I can almost feel the stickiness of my own blood between my clenched fingers, like on that night.”

Edmund sighed. "Don't remember about that, Robin."

"It is alright,” Robin said dismissively. “At times, it is even better to speak than to keep all these emotions in my heart.” He pointed a finger at his own temple. “I always bury everything here.” His arm fled to his left side, as if he were touching his wound. “But at times, rarely, I have to speak.”

Much was biting his lip in contemplation. Robin rarely was frank, but he was pleased that his beloved friend was finally opening his heart to those who cared for him. But if Robin wanted to speak, it meant that he was overwhelmed by pain, and that made Much’s heart constrict. “Robin, we are always here, for you. You can always talk if you want,” he said with a smile. “I know that you don’t like to talk frankly, but sometimes it is necessary… to unburden yourself.”

“Yes,” Robin confirmed. "The night of the Saracen raid was one of the most difficult nights in my life. I still cannot understand how I found enough strength to stand up from the sand and ran to the king’s tent. I don’t know how I managed to stop Gisborne in time. Never before had I run faster.”

“Robin, I don’t know how you could run with your grievous wound,” Edmund said respectfully. “People usually either die on the spot or cannot even stand with such wounds.”

Suddenly, Robin looked rather weary. “I knew that I had to act. I was thinking only about King Richard and his life at that moment.” His heart thundered in his chest; his voice deepened. “I would have never forgiven myself if the king had been already killed by the time I managed to get to the royal tent. I would have blamed myself until doomsday.”

Edmund smiled. “You have always been the most loyal of all, Robin.”

Robin arched a brow. “You think so?”

Edmund laughed. “I do think so, Lord Huntingdon, and you know that,” he replied teasingly. “Don’t be out for compliments.”

Robin raised his chin, as if defiantly; but his eyes twinkled. “But it is me, eh?”

“Yes, Robin, yes,” Edmund replied, smiling widely. “You are the most intolerable man in the world, Robin of Locksley! You are a fantastic combination of arrogance, self-assurance, foolhardiness, boldness, impudence, sweetness, compassion, charm, and goodness.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Robin retorted back, a sparkle of life in his eyes.

“The night of the Saracen attack was dreadful,” Edmund jumped to the old topic.

 “Yes,” Robin agreed, his eyes suddenly turning vacant. “You cannot imagine how dreadful the picture in the king’s tent was.” His heart skipped a beat. “Gisborne stood near the bed, his sword lifted above the sleeping king. He was about to swing a lethal blow, but then I entered and warned the king about the danger. And then there was the mad fight with Gisborne. I don’t know how I managed to fight because I was groggy and weak."

"Gisborne almost killed you, Master," Much blurted out.

"But I didn't die," Robin muttered beneath his breath.

Edmund patted Robin lightly on the back. "Robin, you were so close to death that we all lost hope."

Much’s gaze shifted to Robin. "Oh, Master! It was so terrible! You looked so awful when you fell. There was so much blood on the sand where you fell after he had wounded you.” He felt a cold shiver running down his spine. “When later I saw you on the ground in King Richard’s arms, you looked terrible.”

Robin laughed bitterly. “Thank you for your compliments, Much.”

“It was truly awful,” Much repeated seriously.

After Guy had escaped, Robin had been discovered by the king on the sand in a huge pool of blood. There had been rivers of crimson blood in the royal tent; blood had been everywhere. Much had been the second man who ran to the king’s tent. The servant had screamed in horror as he saw the king holding Robin in his arms; Richard’s own white tunic had been stained with his savior’s blood. Edmund had been the third Crusader, after King Richard and Much, who had seen the heartbreaking picture of the wounded and bleeding Captain Locksley in the king’s arms, Much standing next to his master.

Much and Edmund knew that the king had been greatly affected by the tragedy with Robin. They still remembered the shock on Richard’s pale face when the lion had commanded to fetch his personal physician and place Robin on his own bed. Then the king’s face had recovered its neutrality, but his voice had been tight with deep emotion as he had spoken to his doctor about Robin’s survival.

Robin waved a dismissive hand. “You exaggerate, Much.”

“Much is not exaggerating, Robin,” Edmund intervened. “There was indeed too much blood everywhere in the king’s tent. I myself was frightened!”

“Well, I am sorry that I made you scared,” Robin said apologetically.

“It is not your fault! It is Gisborne’s fault!” Much hissed. “I loathe and hate this man!”

“Oh, I understand you, Much,” Edmund said, twisting his fingers. “I would have killed the assassin who stabbed Robin as brutally as I had never killed any Saracen before if I had found him then.” Then his eyes twinkled. “King Richard himself would have gladly killed him.”

“Oh, I agree!” Much frantically shook his head. “You cannot imagine, Master, how shocked King Richard was. Then he recovered his usual coldness, but he still was very worried.”

“The king was really so worried?” Robin looked amazed.

Robin didn’t know anything about the king’s exact reaction and behavior immediately after the tragedy. He knew that he had spent the first three days after the attack in the royal tent. King Richard had permitted to leave Robin on the second bed there. After Robin had been moved to his own tent, the lion had come to visit him many times when he had been sick.

Through the fog of pain and fevered dreams, Robin still remembered his liege leaning over his bed and looking at him with deep concern etched into his features. He even remembered as Richard had touched his hot forehead, checking his temperature and shaking his head in helpless shock. His mind could also reproduce Richard’s soft baritone, talking to him in Norman-French, as if Robin could have heard him, crooning that he had to fight for his life because they all had needed him.

When Robin’s fever had finally broken, Much had informed him only about some things that had followed the attack, sharing with him mainly general information. He had learned that Richard had spent half of the first night after the attack – together with Much, Edmund and the Earl of Leicester – near Robin’s bed. Later the king had come to his favorite every day until his departure to the south as the ceasefire had been ruined by the attack and the bloody war had ravaged with a new strength.

Robin had spent several weeks in Acre without the king, with the Earl of Leicester and Much by his side. Ten King’s men from the private guard and the entire second guard, commanded by Leicester, had stayed in Acre to ensure his safety in the recently captured city. Then Robin and Much had left for England while Leicester had gone to the south to join the king’s army.

“Yes,” Much said. “He came to visit you regularly. He also inquired about your state very often.”

“King Richard was extremely worried,” Edmund substantiated. “Robin, listen. Here are some facts.” He smiled. “While you lay unconscious and bleeding, the king ordered his messenger to ride to Acre and drag Count Henry de Champagne’s personal physician from the bed, so that we could have two qualified opinions about your wound and your chances for survival, Robin. Later, when the king’s physician said that you would die in fever, our liege commanded to summon more Christian doctors to Acre from Tyre and Jaffa. There was an urgent counsel of physicians who decided what to do with you and how to treat you in order to save you.”

Robin’s eyes widened. “I have never known about that.”

Much chuckled. “You didn’t ask, Master. I would have told you.”

Edmund granted Robin a smile; he had wanted Robin to know some more facts. "When everyone said that you would die, King Richard hissed that doctors were wrong and that he wouldn't listen to their words about your death anymore. He commanded to continue taking care of you and do everything to save you." He shrugged. "By chance physicians didn't have enough painkilling medicines in stock, which were delivered to Acre only in several days from Cyprus."

“And?” Robin prompted.

“The king proved who was more important to him,” Edmund continued. “Richard ordered to use the stock of painkilling medicine for you, ignoring that other soldiers needed it, too, and giving them small doses only after the medicine was administered to you. Robin, you were in great pain during many days, and you needed painkillers.”

“Oh my Lord.” Robin gaped in amazement. He felt a pang of guilt that someone else didn’t receive a dose of medicine, but he was also satisfied that his liege cared for him so much.

Edmund cocked a brow. “Robin, do you need more facts?”

“No, I don’t.” Robin looked very pleased; his eyes sparkled, his face brightened.

Much smiled proudly. “You see how much the king loves you, Robin.”

“It seems that our liege was truly worried,” Robin acknowledged.

Much’s eyes shot daggers. “And it was all Gisborne’s fault!”

“Yes, it was, Much!” Robin narrowed his eyes, anger boiling in his blood. "I loathe and hate Gisborne most of all among all living creatures!” He gritted his teeth as fury slashed through him. “This traitor killed the people whom I loved or who had a special place in my heart.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I hate when innocents are murdered, but if these people are those whom I love, I hate their murderer with a fierce passion," he confessed. “And this is Gisborne’s case!”

Much nodded. "Gisborne is a cold-blooded murderer and a wretched traitor!"

Robin felt as though an earthquake had begun beneath his toes. His heart was pounding and conflicting emotions were swirling hotly inside of his him. He remembered the fire that consumed his father, Sir Malcolm of Locksley. Robin couldn’t forgive Guy of Gisborne for the death of his father: Guy had started the fire – he had killed Malcolm. But Guy had lost his parents that day too! Guy and Isabella, his younger sister, had been thrown out of Locksley, and Robin didn't protect them from banishment. He grimaced as the treacherous emotion of pity for Guy jockeyed for a position with hatred.

Robin blinked, confused with his feelings. Then his face turned stony, and his anger faded away from his gaze; instead, his eyes sparkled with wistfulness. “I am partly guilty of Gisborne's downfall and unhappiness, but it doesn't give him a right to kill innocent people."

Startled by his last words, Much stared at him in anticipation, but Robin didn't speak. Startled and intrigued, Edmund only watched their exchange.

"What?" Much frowned. "You are not guilty of the murders committed by Gisborne!"

"I am not guilty of his crimes, but _I am partly responsible for his plight_ ," Robin said sadly. “You know what I mean, Much. You were there on the day of the fire, and you were older than me. You remember some events better than I do.”

Much's frown deepened. "What are you talking about? Whatever you say, Robin, you were just a seven-year-old child whose father died then. There was nothing you could do, especially after Gisborne started the fire and killed so many people.”

“There was something that I could do, Much,” Robin contradicted his friend. “You know what I could do, but I was so scared and there was absolute chaos in the village.” His voice was almost a lament. “And I hated him. I hated him with all my heart.”

Much shook his head disapprovingly. “Robin, we discussed that many times. You could do nothing.”

Robin smirked darkly. “But maybe I could. Maybe I just didn’t want?”

Much looked at his friend, amazed for a moment; then his face contorted into angry shock. “Stop it, Master! Don’t start this old drivel!” he gave a whoop, scowling. “Gisborne is at fault. I remember everything very well. And don’t tell me about the case with an arrow – everyone makes mistakes.”

“I was guilty in the case with an arrow,” Robin said sadly.

Edmund was quiet, very quiet, observing Robin and Much. He wondered what they were discussing. He had no clue what Much meant by referring to the old drill Robin had just started.

Much nodded, looking rather sickened with the conversation. “Master, I don’t deny that you were wrong then, and Sir Malcolm punished you.”

“Father indeed punished me,” Robin confirmed, dismayed.

“Master, I loved Sir Malcolm. He saved my life and took me to the Locksley Manor. I grieved when he died in the fire. I felt that my savior died on that tragic day, and I wanted so much to stay with you,” Much supplied, his expression turning into sorrow.

“We grieved together,” Robin supplemented.

“Together,” Much echoed with a small smile. Then his face changed into seriousness. “Master, you were a small child! You were so scared and shocked!” He touched Robin’s shoulder in a comforting gesture, feeling how tensed the other man was. “Gisborne did far worse things than you can ever imagine.”

“I know, Much, but… I don’t know…” Robin looked lost.

Much stared at Robin. “Gisborne became a murderer and a traitor on the day of your father's death, and he continued killing people in adulthood.” He pointed a finger at Robin, his face transforming into harshness. “You are not like Gisborne! You are a much better man!”

Robin gave him a small, unconvincing smile. “Maybe, you are right.”

Edmund eyed the two other men. “What are you talking about?” he interjected.

"Edmund, please don’t ask me anything," Robin begged, though in a hissing tone. His blue eyes revealed hardness and determination. "Much knows this old and private story because he was taken by my father in the Locksley Manor several weeks before the fire.” His expression softened. “This story was buried a long time ago.”

Edmund shrugged eloquently. "Fine. I am sorry."

Robin gave a wan smile. “Don’t apologize, Edmund. There are just some very painful things I cannot repeat. I have already said too many painful things tonight.”

“Master, you once told me about King Richard’s conversation with you about Gisborne,” Much continued. “Our king was a prince at that time. We were in Aquitaine when you had your training.”

“Yes, I once told our king everything,” Robin affirmed. He smiled despite himself, for any memory about the king brought gladness to his heart. “And Richard listened attentively and sympathetically. I told him about the tragedy. Richard chuckled and said that I was an utter fool to blame myself for something related to the banishment of the Gisborne family.”

“You see, Master, you must stop this old drill,” Much said insistently.

Edmund cleared his throat. “Robin, I don’t know what you and Much are discussing, but I can say that if King Richard told you something, then you should take it into account. You are better to stop blaming yourself for what you imply and don’t say aloud.”

“It is not easy,” Robin murmured.

“Robin, listen to me.” Edmund took a step to Robin and clapped his shoulder. “Lad, you shouldn’t blame yourself for your inability to save the whole world. I have already noticed that you tend to blame yourself for the problems of many other people.” He rumpled Robin’s sandy-colored hair. “You are a good man, Robin. Believe me, you are a very good man.”

Robin shook his head sadly, but he could not bring himself to say the words. He felt more deeply – he still felt guilty of many things he could have done differently.

No one asked anything else. It was clear that Robin no longer wished to talk.

"I am going to bed. Goodnight," Robin said abruptly, his cool tone signaling that his candid testimony was over. "See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight," Edmund and Much said together.

Edmund stared at Much. "Will he ever recover emotionally?"

Much shook his head. Even his great knowledge of Robin's nature didn't help him to understand how to ease Robin's pain. "I don't know, Sir Edmund."

"Maybe only one person can help our Robin now. Robin will listen to this man."

"And who is he?"

"King Richard," Edmund said briefly.

The cry of startled excitement burst from Much's mouth. "Our king will surely help! King Richard has always loved Robin! They were so close when we were on the Crusade!"

"Yes," Edmund said. It was true that the king had probably understood Robin better than anybody else. "It is windy here. Let's return to our cabins."

§§§

During the next two months, the wind favored traveling plans of Robin Hood and his gang. However, once the ship was smitten by the huge storm. Suffering from his newly discovered seasickness, which was especially strong in the storm, Little John grumbled and cursed. Will and Djaq spent a night of rough rolling in a tight embrace on their bed. Robin and Much didn't care about inconveniences, accustomed to the storms in the Mediterranean Sea.

They had to make a port in Rhodes due to the storm. They spent three days there, waiting for the sea to calm and taking new supplies of fresh water and food. Later they realized how right the decision was: the captain informed Robin and his friends that several ships had been sunk by that storm, and many men had drowned. Situated on a major sea route, Rhodes was an excellent place for getting news, and soon they received a confirmation that the Earl of Leicester waited for them in Limassol.

The weather was good during the next days. There was no trace of the recent storm. The Mediterranean Sea was a sheet of the pure dark blue water, only wrinkled by a few petulant white-capped waves. The warm sun smiled down at the ship and the sea with amicable warmth. The sky was light blue, untroubled by a single cloud. There was only the fair wind that pushed the ship swiftly ahead, to the shores of Cyprus conquered by King Richard as the key base to recover the Holy Land.

Despite the good weather outside, Robin Hood and the outlaws spent their morning in the cabin. Edmund was sleeping in his cabin. As usual, Robin was in his own world: he was studying the map of Outremer, not talking to his friends. Will and Much were chatting about Robin and Much's first sea voyage to the Holy Land. Little John lived hoping to arrive in Acre and disembark the ship. Sitting on his bed, John was mumbling that the journey was too long and he couldn’t endure it anymore. Djaq gave him an Arabic medicine from seasickness, and in an hour John felt better.

Djaq stared at John. "How are you feeling, John?"

"Much better. Thank you," John responded.

"Robin," Will called. He waited until Robin raised his eyes from the map, and then spoke. "I wanted to talk to you about Allan."

Robin looked at them without any astonishment. "I expected that."

"I am worried about Allan. He is not a bad man," Djaq said.

"Allan made his choice! He is with Gisborne and licks his boots for money stolen from Robin and the poor!" Much cried out. "He is Gisborne's puppet."

" Allan sold us for a few coins, and now he is our enemy," Little John fumed. "Robin saved his life and gave up his lands and title, but Allan, ungrateful and vile, betrayed him."

"I would love to think that we can still trust Allan, but I cannot risk the king's life," Robin said truthfully. "Even though I am not in England and Allan cannot join our gang again, I hate thinking that Allan is with Gisborne. He made a bad choice."

"Allan was put to the rack by Gisborne. Gisborne broke him," Djaq defended Allan. "Robin, I am sorry for bringing this to your attention as I know that you don't want to talk about this." She cast an apologetic glance at Robin. "Allan didn't betray Marian. He didn't give away the location of the camp. He didn't tell them the truth when Carter had pretended that he had killed you. Later he also helped us escape several times."

Robin glanced away. "I know the circumstances of his betrayal. You don't need to remind."

Much grimaced in disgust. "Ha! He was broken under torture! Robin was also tortured! I was tortured! We were tortured together, and they made us watch that. But we didn't become traitors."

Everyone stared at Robin and Much. They knew that Robin had once been tortured by Vaisey and Gisborne for entertainment, but they had no idea that Much had been put to the rack too.

Robin's blue eyes turned violet in rage. "Much, you are a fool! Don't remind me of that!"

"What is it?" John frowned.

Djaq raised an eyebrow. "The Holy Land?"

Robin felt anger stir in his heart. He didn't want to remember the most brutal torture he had ever known. It happened in Palestine, but it was not a tale for today. "The Holy Land may just be not so holy even for the king's friends," he replied with a sad smile. "Not today please."

"Sorry," John said softly.

Robin forced a smile. "Djaq, what did you want to say about Allan?"

"I believe that Allan has repented of his betrayal and wants to switch sides," Djaq opined.

"He regrets that he betrayed us," Will asserted.

"I believe that Allan is worth giving him a second chance," Djaq continued.

Robin sighed. "Allan's case is complicated."

"King Richard's life is in danger thanks to the Black Knights, and Allan is a traitor. We are not sure that Allan will never try to cause harm to the king with Gisborne," Little John snapped.

"What will happen after the king's return?" Will asked.

"The Black Knights will pay for treason. They will be rotting in the dungeons. Punishment will be determined individually for every noble and for every pawn. I am sure that the king will pardon the most influential nobles, having only some of them executed as an example. Others will be pardoned and will swear fealty to the king," Robin opined.

"King Richard will deal with Vaisey, Gisborne, Allan, and the likes of them," Much said harshly.

Djaq raised her brows. "What about Vaisey and Gisborne?"

"Our king must be very angry that his countrymen want to kill him," Robin said flatly.

Little John sighed. "Of course, the king isn't happy."

Robin drew a deep breath. "As assassination attempts on the king's life are mostly planned by Vaisey and technically implemented by Gisborne, they are dead men walking. They will be tried and undoubtedly sentenced to death. The more regicide attempts they commit and fail, the angrier the king will be and the more brutal their punishment will be. The king may be very cruel if he is furious; his Angevin temper may cause a lot of trouble, even for those whom he loves.”

Much gave a nod. “Our king has a short temper.”

“Vaisey is likely to have the most brutal execution,” Robin added.

"What do you mean?" Little John questioned.

Robin cleared his throat before he spoke. "Vaisey might be hanged, drawn, and quartered. If Vaisey attempts another regicide while I am in the Holy Land, I will personally ask our king to give him the harshest punishment. I am fed up with Vaisey and his tyranny. If he tries to kill the king again, I won't be able to control myself and there will be no humanity left for him. He will die a slow and painful death then." His blue eyes darkened with rage. His tone was so hateful and so cold that the others inwardly shuddered. "Vaisey and Gisborne deserve this punishment."

Will had never heard Robin's voice full of so much bitterness and hatred. "Even Gisborne, Robin?"

"Gisborne might be hanged. King Richard knows that he tried to kill him in Acre when he stabbed me," Robin replied. "The king will consider Vaisey responsible for regicide, blaming him more than Gisborne. Pawns, like Allan, will also pay with their life. They are nothing for the king."

Everyone thought of Marian, but didn't dare mention her name. She was the traitor's wife, but her life wasn't in danger. They worried about Allan's fate, not about Gisborne and Marian.

"Will the king execute Allan if he continues serving Gisborne?" Djaq asked.

Robin gave a nod. "Most likely."

"The king will surely have Allan hanged," Much snapped.

"I don't envy Allan if he doesn't leave Gisborne and runs away from Nottingham," Little John said.

Will and Djaq shared tenebrous glances. Their expressions were as black as a thundercloud.

Robin noticed a touch of sorrow creeping into their eyes. He smiled wistfully. "Later I will think of what to do with Allan. I haven't forgotten that he hasn't utterly betrayed us and helped us… from time to time," he said to ease his friends' concerns.

Will and Djaq smiled. Robin softened towards Allan, and it was a good sign. Robin could save Allan from Richard's anger and execution if he wanted that, provided that Allan switched sides on time.

Djaq shook her head. "Allan should leave Gisborne while he still has time."

"Actually, I have something in mind for Allan," Robin said in a low tone. "But at first, I must understand what is going on in Palestine."

"What do you mean?" Will inquired.

“Well, I have half a plan,” Robin continued flatly. "Allan was Gisborne's spy in our camp. He is a consummate liar, and he can easily become my spy and share with me information about new assassination attempts on King Richard's life and about the Black Knights."

"Robin, it is a great idea!" Djaq exclaimed.

Will smiled. "I like it. Will the king agree?"

Robin shrugged. "We will need spies, but only King Richard can make such decisions."

Much grimaced. "It would be too generous to Allan."

"We cannot trust Allan," Little John added.

"The king may agree or not." Robin rubbed his cheek. “I know the king very well, but I cannot predict with certainty what he will do.”

"I don't understand." Djaq shook her head. "You need information about the Black Knights. Maybe we should make Allan a spy."

Robin drew a shallow breath. " _Allan is guilty of Roger of Stoke's death_.” A heavy sigh followed. “As you remember, I asked Roger to carry my message for King Richard, but Allan betrayed us. Carter said that Roger had been expected to arrive in the Holy Land, but he disappeared. I tried to contact Roger's family, but they said that he had gone to the king. Roger simply perished from the earth.”

“It means that Gisborne killed Roger in cold blood," Much finished.

Robin nodded. “Yes. It means that Roger is dead.” He let out a deep sigh of grief. “King Richard knows that Allan's betrayal resulted in Roger's death. I wrote the truth in the letter Carter carried to the king. I couldn't lie to the king."

Robin relapsed into silence and stood like a statue for a few moments while images and emotions were hurrying upon him. Sir Roger of Stoke, his close friend and his comrade, had been killed by Guy of Gisborne. A pain came first – the pain from losing one of his best friends. In an instant, his body was shaking with helpless rage. He thought back to the days when Allan had changed his allegiances and had sold his secrets to Gisborne, and resentful hatred twisted in his gut, hatred of such a colossal strength that any recipient of his touch could find every last layer of skin burnt from his hands. His emotions were stronger than anger and pain, and he fought against them but still found himself trapped in their vise.

“Robin?” Little John called, with a touch of concern.

But Robin didn’t react, continuing to stare at one point, without blinking or shifting. All eyes were turned on their leader, who, since the mention of his name, was still going through a crisis of feeling almost too violent and too unbearable for his lean frame to support.

Robin drew a deep breath and then another one, and he felt his strength return – he could think of Allan without hatred. “I am fine,” he said in a voice that, however, didn’t hold a touch of confidence.

Djaq swallowed hard. "Oh, Robin. I know that Allan did many wrong things, but maybe you shouldn't have been so frank with the king."

Robin blinked, trying to push away a fit of anger, but failed. The image of Roger's face flickered in his mind. "No, Djaq, I couldn't have lied to my liege. Lying to the king is treason.”

“Robin, I understand your grief, but Allan–” Will was interrupted.

Robin gave Will an acerbated glance, irritated that the other man was defending Allan. “No, Will, you don’t understand.”A shudder ran down his spine. “You don't know what Roger meant to the king and to me." His voice turned very low. "Roger of Stoke was my old and close friend. I have known him since I turned fifteen. We met in Poitou during the knighthood training at Prince Richard’s court. When I was sixteen, I left Locksley and spent the winter in Huntingdon with Roger as my guest. We met at the royal court in London and in Poitiers many times."

Much began to reminisce. "Robin and his old friends – Robert de Beaumont, Roger of Stoke, Legrand de Walcott, and Roger de Lacy – attended King Richard's grand coronation in London together. I also attended the coronation, staying behind my Master. When the massacre of the Jews started, Robin and his friends helped to stop the madness. They saved many Jews from being beaten to death and being burned alive.”

Robin sighed. "Roger and I together departed from London to Poitiers. Robert de Beaumont, Legrand de Walcott, and Roger de Lacy were already in Aquitaine.” He dragged a deep breath. “We spent several weeks in Poitiers, at Queen Eleanor’s court. Then we took the Cross and left for the Holy Land as a part of the king's private guard. We fought together in the Holy Land for five long years, including for four years under my command when I headed the private guard."

"Roger of Stoke was a good man. I liked him very much," Much said, sorrow creeping into his voice. "Roger once saved my life on the battlefield. I stumbled and fell to the ground. I was disarmed as my sword slipped from my hands; I also hit my head. Roger came in time and killed the Saracen who stood with a sword above me. I would have been dead without Roger."

Robin looked down, at his boots, his heart singing a mournful melody for Roger’s death. “In the Holy Land, Roger and I were very close all the time. Roger saved my life at least three times in the battles. Saving my life once, he was seriously wounded in his shoulder, and a fever had almost taken his life, but he survived. He also saved King Richard's life once.”

“I hate Gisborne!” Much spat. His eyes darkened and his fists clenched. "Gisborne killed Roger in cold blood! He killed the man who saved Robin's life and my life! He killed the man who saved the king's life! He killed him because of Allan's greed! Gisborne and Allan are traitors!"

Little John sighed. "How old was Sir Roger when he died?"

"Roger was my coeval. He would have been twenty-six this year," Robin informed.

"So young." Will started chewing his lower lip.

Will, Djaq, and Little John were at a loss. They didn't know what to say. The death of the good man, whom the King of England, Robin, and Much loved, was on Allan's conscience. They were bewildered as well because Robin rarely shared his thoughts with someone else.

"Robin and Much, I am sorry. I didn't know that you were so close with Sir Roger," Little John babbled. "It makes Allan's betrayal worse."

"Roger was Robin's close friend, not mine. Roger also was one of King Richard's favorites. The king loved him, not as much as Robin and the Earl of Leicester, but very dearly," Much pointed out. "I liked Roger's company and was grateful to him for saving my life."

"It is a pity that Roger of Stoke died. God bless his soul," Will murmured.

Robin felt his composure ebbing. He wasn't accustomed to being so frank, but it was the moment when he had to explain why it wouldn't be easy to save Allan from the king's wrath. "As Much noticed, our liege held Roger in high favor. He is certainly mourning for him." He took a deep breath. "The king may be cruel and vengeful if the people whom he loves are hurt, harmed, or killed, especially if they are his favorites. It is in character for the king to act so."

Djaq knew very well how cruel Richard the Lionheart could be. She still remembered the bloody massacre of three thousand prisoners in Acre. "And what can we do?"

"We may never be friends again, but I don't want Allan dead," Robin said honestly. "I will tell the king that I want to make Allan our spy among the Black Knights. To save himself, Allan must switch sides and redeem himself in the king's eyes. Spying on the Black Knights is very dangerous, but it should be enough to earn the king's pardon."

Djaq was still worried. "If Allan or the king doesn't agree?"

"Then I will make sure that Allan learns about our return. He will have time to leave England and never return," Robin said.

Djaq smiled. "Thank you, Robin."

"Thank you," Will said with a large smile.

Robin smiled with a detached smile. "Welcome, lads."

Robin Hood fell still, looking at the vast expanse of the blue sea. In last months, he had experienced happiness and grief, each feeling so deep and so piercing that it was a shocking emotion that he had never felt before. He was relieved that at least he had some time of grace. But this could not last forever, so he snatched at it like a starving man, obsessively watching the smallest detail and savoring it.

Little John put a hand on Robin's shoulder. "Robin, are you alright?"

Robin veered his gaze to his friends. "I am sorry. I was distracted."

Much assured Robin, "Master, you will be happy soon. King Richard is waiting for you, and he will make you happy. Our king always makes you happy and amuse you when others fail."

Robin smiled kindly. "I miss the king very much."

"But you don't want to go to Acre," Djaq stated.

Robin turned to face his friend. "I don't want to fight, but I have to."

Much sighed heavily. "But it is better to be with our king and save him from traitors than to be in Nottingham and watch the people who make you unhappy."

Robin laughed. "You think so?"

Much nodded. "Definitely, Master!"

"The people would think that I abandoned them. Probably, the sheriff has already invented a tale about me, slandering my name and tarnishing my reputation," Robin said, trying to keep his voice free from anxiety and pain. "I do care what they will think about me."

"Master, regardless of what the sheriff tells the people, you shouldn’t think that you let them down and did something wrong," Much soothed, trying to alleviate the pressure of worry from Robin. "You obeyed the orders and returned to the Holy Land to work for peace and bring the king home."

Robin shook his head. "The people won't understand that."

"You care more about Lady Marian's opinion," Djaq said matter-of-factly.

Robin shrugged. "Probably."

"Robin, you are not alone. You are our friend and we will do everything for you," Djaq said gently.

"Thank you, Djaq," Robin responded with a warm smile. Robin hugged Djaq's small frame so hard that his whole body trembled. "This means a lot to me."

Much hugged Robin. "You mean a lot to me, to us. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Thank you." Robin gave them a smile, but his smile was gone in an instance. "Maybe I don't want to fight not only in Acre–" He cut off himself, being unable to say aloud what was in his mind.

"What do you mean?" Will arched a brow.

"The truth is that I am growing tired of fighting," Robin responded in a weary tone. "I have been fighting for so many years, and I still see no end to my battles. I don't want to spill blood, but I know that I will have to. I mean that I am tired of fighting all my battles."

Little John rubbed his cheek. "The king wants peace. We will be fighting for peace."

"We will make peace with the Saracens and go home very soon, Master. We will bring King Richard back to England, and he will make everything right," Much said enthusiastically.

Robin looked wistful, his lips twitching in a faint smile. "You will return."

"Good God!" Much gasped with horror. "Master, what are you talking about?"

A solemn Robin emitted a heavy sigh. "Nothing serious."

“No, Master, you cannot think of that!” Much cried out impetuously, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Everything will be alright. I know what you are thinking... Don't even think about what I think… You will not die in the Holy Land. You will come back home, to Nottingham, to Locksley… and I will come to Bonchurch, not a large estate but a good one. And we all will be happy."

Robin Hood stole a glance at the outlaws, but he quickly glanced away. "Lads, _death is inevitable, and you shouldn’t fear to die for a noble cause_. I can die for England and for King Richard, and this is the most honorable death one can ever dream to have. I can die proclaiming my loyalty to Richard. But I find it… difficult… to return to the Holy Land."

"Come on, Robin. Don't dwell on the past," Djaq said, smiling. "You won't persuade me that you are afraid of returning to the Holy Land where the king is waiting for you. For you, the king is England, and England is the king. You are going where the king is, and you are doing the right thing."

Robin ran his eyes over his friends, and his gaze fixed on Djaq; he was grateful to her for her attempts to keep him in good spirits by talking about the king she didn't love and respect. "You are right. The last thing I can afford myself doing or feeling is being melancholic. I don't want to die, but I prefer an honorable death to a dull existence." He paused and sighed. "And… who knows what can happen in the Holy Land.”

“Master, you are the best in everything you do! You cannot die in war – nobody can kill you!” Much exclaimed. “You won’t die in the Holy Land! You are lucky, clever, brave, and strong – everyone, except for the king and the Earl of Leicester, is worse than you in battle!”

The outlaws shook their heads in agreement. All that Robin did was incredible and unbelievable, and he always – almost always – succeeded. In the light of their continuous triumph over the sheriff and Gisborne, they had begun to view their leader almost as an immortal, one who can continue to sacrifice himself for mortals again and again and always survive. Only Djaq didn’t nod, sighing deeply and measuring her friends with a skeptical look she didn’t even hide.

As if he were reading their thoughts, Robin laughed lightly. He found it ludicrous that his friends seemed to think of him as the one who can be shot but the wound heals right away. “Immortality is limited only by our imagination,” he said rhetorically. “Death can happen anywhere anytime – in an instant, life can change forever and that moment will define whether you die or survive."

Robin said nothing else. Inwardly he was full of anxiety, alarm, and apprehension. He indeed had a bad foreboding, but not about the king – about himself. The world had a new dreariness for him, as if a magician's spells had turned it into a large black hole threatening to swallow him up and destroy him. He felt that he was beginning to know not only a pang of disappointed love but also a twinge of uncertainty regarding his own fate. But whatever expected him in the bloodbath in the Holy Land, he intended to keep King Richard safe at any cost.

§§§

Robin squinted against the blaze of the midday sun as he saw the shores of Cyprus in the distance. There were several small windows in the cabin, and everyone watched the shadows of land along the horizon slowly take shape. The faint line of the sun-bleached, embayed coast glimmered amid the blue expanse that was changing its color, shading from deep blue to azure as the water grew shallower. They were hungry for a glimpse of land, craving to leave the ship at least for a little while.

"Master, I still remember our first voyage to the Holy Land,” Much told Robin.

Robin swallowed heavily. “It was a very long and memorable journey.”

“Oh, yes, it was a long and exciting journey,” Much twittered, his mind drifting off to the old times. “I liked the weeks at Queen Eleanor's court before we took the Cross. The feasts and food were amazing. Queen Eleanor and King Richard surely know how to organize a luxurious feast.” A joyful laughter cascaded from his mouth.

“I liked our time at the court in Poitou as well.”

“I liked Sicily and Cyprus,” Much stated. “Master, you were so brave in the Battle of Messina when you helped our king save Queen Johanna. And on Cyprus, we attended King Richard's wedding ceremony with Queen Berengaria. On the wedding banquet, you sat at the king's right hand."

Robin remembered those events very well. Much and Robin had departed from Nottingham and met with King Richard in London. There had been a magnificent ceremony at the Windsor Castle when Robin and other knights had sworn their fealty to Richard. Then Robin had joined the king's private guard.

They had crossed the Channel and had traveled through Norman lands to Aquitaine, where they had stayed for several weeks at Queen Eleanor's court, while the King of England had checked state deals before departure for the Crusade. They had progressed to the south and had sailed from Marseilles. When Richard's huge army had arrived in Sicily, the Battle of Messina had occurred – the king had had to fight in order to release Joanna Plantagenet, Dowager Queen of Sicily and Richard's youngest and favorite sister, who had been held captive by the newly crowned King Tancred, her deceased husband's successor.

On the way to the Holy Land, a storm had dispersed King Richard's fleet. The boat, carrying the king's bride Berengaria of Navarre and his sister Joanna, had been anchored on the south coast of Cyprus, together with the wrecks of several other ships, including the treasure ship. Berengaria and Joanna had been taken prisoners by the ruler of Cyprus – Isaac Komnenos, a man despotic and unworthy of trust, who had called himself Emperor of Cyprus.

The King of England had landed his troops and had quickly captured Limassol. Isaac Komnenos had considered making peace with Richard, but then the man had tried to escape. Richard had proceeded to conquer the whole island and had forced Isaac to surrender, using silver chains instead of irons to shackle the former ruler of Cyprus. Later Richard had sold Cyprus to the Knights Templar, but the island had been acquired by Guy de Lusignan. Since then, Cyprus was a stable feudal kingdom at the crossroads between East and West, an important Christian base on the way to Outremer.

After the conquest of Cyprus, Robin had tasted glory and the king's highest favor. As captain of the king's private guard had been killed in the battle of Limassol, King Richard, who had been deeply impressed by Robin's courage and fighting skills, had elevated Robin to the position of captain of the private guard and had given him his second medal; the first medal had been granted to him in the Battle of Messina.

Robin glanced sideways at Much. "It was an interesting journey."

"Master, aren't you excited to be on the way to Acre?"

"You are more excited than me," the leader of the outlaws commented dryly.

"Master, I also remember the war’s horrors, but I try not to dwell on them."

Both Robin and Much were affected profoundly by the war, but Much perceived everything in a different light. He killed because his Master and Captain ordered him to fight with the infidels. Much killed for King Richard and more for Robin, trying to keep his Master safe. Robin had more responsibilities, had to face more horrors, and committed more atrocities as one of the king's key generals. Robin killed for England, for King Richard, Marian, the king's victory and the survival of his comrades.

Robin laughed humorlessly. "I would love to forget the Crusade and the horrors we saw in the Holy Land. But, unfortunately, it seems that endless fighting has become a permanent part of my life."

"We will return from the Holy Land with triumph. We will bring the king home, and he will make everything right in England."

"Perhaps." Robin shrugged.

A dumbfounded Much asked, "You doubt that, Master?"

"I prefer not to think of tomorrow," Robin said dismissively.

“Fine, fine, Master,” Much muttered under his breath.

Robin smiled at the beautiful picture before his eyes – the enormous bluff towering up from the misty sea. It looked a gothic, romantic place. "We are making port in Limassol in an hour."

The sun was shining, Djaq observed with pleasure. She was delighted that they would have a short stop on the island. "I will be happy to be on the land."

"I am tired of this journey, too," Little John complained. "I have never thought that I will be so seasick. I hate ships and the sea."

Robin smiled sympathetically. "Sometimes it happens."

"My Master and I have never been seasick. We were completely fine during our last long journey to the Holy Land. We spent much time on the deck and enjoyed it," Much interjected.

John gave Much an envious glance. "Lucky you are."

"We will spend several days on Cyprus," Robin said quietly.

"Where will we stay there?" Djaq inquired.

Robin shook his head in denial. "At the court."

"Robin! It may be dangerous for Djaq!" Will protested.

"Trust me, Will. I will make sure that Djaq will be safe. I will talk to Guy de Lusignan, and he will take Djaq under his protection," Robin stated confidently.

Will cast an alarmed glance at Robin. "Are you sure?"

Robin inclined his head in confirmation. "Yes, I am."

"Good." Will smiled timidly.

Robin stood up from the chair. "I am going out." He turned on his heel, but paused and turned his gaze at Much. "Much, will you go with me?"

"Oh, I will, Master!" Much was excited that he would spend some time alone with Robin. He was jealous of Robin and wanted to be the most important man in Robin’s life.

"Much, please call me Robin. I am not your Master anymore. I made you a free man in the Holy Land. You are Lord Much of Bonchurch," Robin said, a smile hovering over his lips. "Now let's go. The weather is good, and it is better to be outside."

"Thank you, Robin," Much said earnestly.

The ship entered the harbor in the late afternoon. Sir Edmund of Cranfield, the Earl of Middlesex, said to Robin that he would meet many old friends on Cyprus. King Richard had sent a large party of Crusaders to Cyprus to conduct negotiations with Guy de Lusignan, a Poitevin knight and the King of Cyprus, as they needed to solve the problem of succession in the kingdom of Cyprus in the case of de Lusignan's untimely death.

King Richard’s interests were presented by Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, and Henry II, Count of Champagne and the King of Jerusalem. The reason for the urgent negotiations was that Sibylla of Jerusalem, Lusignan's wife, had died a year ago, and de Lusignan was childless. De Lusignan wasn't a young healthy man who had become the King of Jerusalem eight years ago and later had been compensated for the dispossession of his crown by granting him the lordship of Cyprus in 1192. As Cyprus had a key strategic position on the maritime lanes to the Holy Land, it was important who would rule the island in the coming years, and the King of England was determined to ensure that Guy de Lusignan would choose the successor conforming with Richard’s interests.

Anticipating Robin's arrival, the Earl of Leicester and other Crusaders had come to the harbor before the ship was anchored there; they waited for Robin for more than an hour. As soon as Robin and his friends disembarked, Robin was swept in the whirlwind of chaos as each of his old friends wanted to embrace him. Making his way through the crowd and unceremoniously pushing others aside, Leicester pulled Robin into a warm friendly embrace. Robin was also warmly greeted by the other Crusaders who fought with him in the Holy Land, as well as by the courtiers.

Much blossomed in the merry atmosphere of the place. Will, Djaq, and Little John were stunned to see so many people in the harbor; they knew nobody from the Crusaders and felt uncomfortable in the presence of so many unknown people. Robin introduced the outlaws as his friends from England and said that Little John would serve in the king's guard upon their arrival in Acre. Will and Djaq were introduced as Robin's friends who traveled with them from Nottingham to Acre and were supposed to stay there.

As they stood in the midst of the Crusaders who considered the Saracens the enemies of Christ and Christendom, Will was very worried about Djaq's safety, staying close to his beloved, his arm protectively wrapped around her small frame. Robin declared that Djaq was his friend and a talented physician who saved many lives of Englishmen in Nottingham.

Djaq was grateful that Robin didn't go into details of how he had saved her life and had taken her into his gang, appreciating that Robin had vouched for her and highly praised her medical skills in front of the Crusaders. Although Robin's friends still looked at Djaq with unhidden suspicion, Robin's word and recommendation seemed to be enough to ensure her safety on Cyprus; several Crusaders smiled at her, saying that if she was Robin's friend, she was also their friend.

When they arrived in the Castle of Limassol, Guy de Lusignan's royal residence, Robin requested a minute of privacy with Lusignan and told him about Djaq's presence at the court. He received Lusignan's consent to let Djaq stay in the castle. The ruler of Cyprus wasn't happy to see the Saracen in the castle, but he also couldn't spoil his relations with King Richard's favorite general who was on his way to his king and could complain about his inhospitality and animosity. At Robin's insistence, de Lusignan publicly informed the courtiers that Djaq was under his personal protection.

Nevertheless, risks for Djaq’s safety still existed. Djaq, with her tanned skin, her lovely hazel eyes, and her dark hair, attracted too much attention to herself, whereas Robin didn't know all the Crusaders and the courtiers in Limassol to personally talk to each of them and assure them that Djaq was not an enemy. Incidents always happen, and, thus, Robin recommended that Djaq and Will stay in shadows, spending their time in their court apartments. Will and Djaq agreed and retired to their rooms immediately after the arrival.

Robin arranged that the outlaws were given apartments near his for safety and convenience. After everyone was settled in their rooms, Robin informed his friends that they had to pay a courtesy call on Guy de Lusignan, the King of Cyprus. Moreover, on the evening of their arrival in Limassol, a grand banquet was organized in honor of Guy de Lusignan's negotiations with the Earl of Leicester and Count Henry de Champagne.

Much was delighted to be at the court, wishing to blithely saunter through life, enjoying delicious food and drink, thriving in the company of pretty women and amusing companions, which was much better than doing a dirty work of a servant which he had continued performing while they had lived in the forest. Will and Djaq refused to be the banquet and retired to their chambers, and Robin approved of that giving them a small smile.  Little John was reluctant to go and at first refused, but Robin asked him again and he felt obliged to agree.

Robin didn't want to participate in any celebrations, but he had to comply with standard court protocols and couldn't miss the banquet. He was no longer Robin Hood - he was Sir Robin Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and King Richard's confident. The only reason why he wanted to be at the banquet was an opportunity to converse with the Earl of Leicester and his other friends, whom he missed very much since he had left Acre around two years ago.

Having escaped the crowds of the Crusaders and the courtiers, Djaq and Will were delighted to spend the evening together in her small room located close to Robin's large chamber.

On the ship, they had finally admitted their true feelings for each other, after so much hesitation and fears that the affection wasn't reciprocated on both sides. Now they had a clear vision of the charm and happiness they could find in each other’s companionship, already dreaming of the happy life in Acre ahead of their arrival there. Will and Djaq, believing in the strength of their feelings, felt their hearts quite at rest as to the regard they might have from others who could disapprove of their choices: they loved one another, and it didn’t matter to them if anyone else considered their love blasphemous and sinful just because she was a Saracen woman and he was an Englishman.

The room was lighted by two torches on the opposite walls. Djaq sat on the floor in a lotus pose, staring into the flame of the burning torches. She was relieved that she was only with Will, away from curious gazes of Robin’s comrades who in fact were her enemies. Even in spite of Robin’s promise to keep her safe, she still felt herself in danger of violence and even death. Many times she had seen her countrymen being killed by the Crusaders, including her twin brother Djaq, whose name she had used in England to mislead others regarding her gender.

Will leaned his head back against the velvet covering of his chair. Djaq wasn’t looking at him, her eyes were fixed dreamily on a streak of candlelight which fell across the floor. Watching Djaq, he felt his heart hammering harder. All he could think about was how beautiful and seductive she was. She was exotic and elegant, with her cropped ebony hair framing her beautiful features and with her large green-hazel eyes that seemed to him as beautiful and pure as clear depths of a stream in Sherwood Forest. Her caramel skin was highlighted beautifully by firelight. It didn't matter that she didn't look like an English girl, and, to him, she was even more stunning.

Djaq was silent, contemplating the changes in her life: they had left Sherwood and England and now were on the way to the Holy Land, her native country, where Saracen and Christian blood was spilled every day on the grounds of unremitting religious fighting and war. She had left the Holy Land as a slave and had been brought to England in chains; in England she had worked in the mine and had been saved by Robin and the outlaws, then had lived in the forest, helping the poor and saving innocent lives from the sheriff’s cruelty; and now she was travelling to the Holy Land. She truly wanted to go home, but she didn't know what she would find there after a long absence.

In the past days, Djaq _felt especially close to Robin_ who, she knew, feared the memories of the horrors he had buried in his heart, together with vibrant, spine-chilling emotions he always kept inside himself, masking them with his cheeky grin, and winks. Like Robin, she was afraid of her memories that haunted her every night and followed her everywhere in daytime, reaching toward her with their fingers, imaginary and yet so real. The land of Christ was like the land of death in Djaq's eyes; she had seen too many deaths and tragedies in the Holy Land, and she would never forget them. She wondered what she would see in Acre after her return.

Sensing her uneasy mood, Will stared at her, his brow furrowing. "Djaq?"

Djaq turned her head and looked at him. "Yes?"

"What's wrong?" he asked softly.

Djaq stiffened. "I don't like this place." Uneasiness pulsed through her nerves, throbbing in her entire body, tingling in her fingertips.

Will got to his feet and walked to her, then sat on the floor next to her. "And neither do I," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "Robin said that we would have to spend here at least a week."

"Then we must be careful all the time," Djaq retorted, running a hand through her hair. "I would rather go to Acre tomorrow, but we cannot dictate Robin what to do."

He gave a nod. "We have to be patient."

She wrapped her hand around his wrist and pulled it towards her. "Yes."

"Will your Uncle Bassam permit me to live with you in his house?"

Djaq smiled, dismissing the concern from her mind. "I will tell Bassam that I love you. My uncle loves me and will understand my choice."

"But will he accept your choice?" Will gathered her into his arms and pressed her to his chest and kissed the nape of her head, then gently pushed her away.

She shrugged. "He has always been a kind and considerate man."

"And if he doesn't approve of your choice, what will we do?" Will inquired his voice nearly lifeless.

"Then we will think of something."

"I hope so." His voice was trembling.

Djaq gave him a wide smile. "Cheer up! It will be alright!"

The late evening enveloped Cyprus, and tonight the moon was but a sliver in the sky. Will stole a quick glance at the window that was ajar, not curtained with heavy draperies of green damask. The light breeze ruffled their hair and wafted around them the fragrance of the blossoming trees.

"It is already quite late,” Will said. “Robin, Much, and John must already be at the banquet."

“I think they are still preparing for the feast.”

“Perhaps.”

Djaq crossed her arms over her chest, moodily. "Robin needs a distraction after all he went through in England and before he again becomes the Crusader."

"I wonder whether Robin will ask us to meet King Richard."

Djaq was quiet for a long while, struggling against a feeling of anger that rose in her heart and shot from her toes to her throat. The Lionheart’s life was touching her own life with the solemn neighborhood of danger and distress, for the king’s key men and allies were responsible for the deaths of her brother and father. Though Robin had also been a Crusader once, he was a different man, and she couldn’t understand how a man like Robin could fight on the Crusade. She felt the relation between Robin and herself that was peculiar and close enough to be called a friendship, and she loved Robin, though her own feelings about the war weren’t fully known to him – she had told Robin about her family’s death, but she had never shared with him her quiet, deep-seated loathing for King Richard.

When Djaq's anger was subsiding into calm, her eyes met Will's as helplessly as if they had been flowers. "I don't want to meet King Richard. I have never been fond of him, and my view will never change," she said starkly. "This man killed so many Saracens that you will have to count numbers till the crack of doom. He caused too much pain to my countrymen."

He touched her cheek and smiled at her. "I understand you, my beloved."

She smiled back. "Thank you, Will."

Will took Djaq's small hand in his. "Honestly, I am not eager to meet the king, too. I don't respect the king who cares more about foreign wars than about his people." He scoffed. "Richard is the king of the country he has scarcely seen. Maybe it is the reason why he prefers to fight in the Holy Land."

"Robin would tell us that King Richard made a holy vow and became a soldier of the Cross so that he has to fight against the Saracens. He would also say that the king's absence in England does not mean he is not a great king.”

"Robin always defends King Richard. He is blindly loyal to him."

“I don’t think so.”

“But regardless of what we discuss, Robin never finds any fault with the king.”

Djaq had already taken hold of her emotions, and now she looked composed. "I think Robin knows the king's flaws, but he ignores them and never speaks to anyone about them. Robin believes that a king is God incarnate on earth, and his decisions are unquestionable, even if they are wrong and cruel. In Robin's opinion, a king is a man chosen by God to rule.”

"You are right. Robin once told me that a king cannot be chosen by people and is born in a royal family, with a fate to rule," Will confirmed.

Robin is also so loyal to the king because he has a strong emotional attachment to the man.”

There was a movement of great attention in Will. “Emotional attachment?”

“Yes. Robin is the king's close friend, and the king has probably played an important role in his life.”

“Robin met the king in Aquitaine when he was very young,” Will remembered.

“Well, my guess was correct. Robin has known the king for many years. I think the king is a friend and a mentor to Robin. My theory would explain Robin’s unconditional loyalty that some of us cannot understand.” Djaq chuckled, and then the smile dropped from her face. "There is another negative side of his utter devotion to the king."

Will looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I think that _Robin may find it hard to… survive if he fails to save King Richard_ ," she said in a low voice.

"You think so?" he asked, biting back an exclamation of surprise.

Djaq smiled, her eyes lost in thought as she stared blindly at the torch. "Robin is the most devoted and loyal friend any king and any man may hope to have. He knows what real friendship is, though he often disregards his principles by treating Much as his servant rather than as his friend and his equal." She paused for a moment, her mind centered on Robin who never ceased to impress and amaze her. "Robin is willing to give his own life and, I think, everyone’s life, to save Marian, the king, and England. As he is so attached to the king, I fear he may break if he fails to save him. That’s why I never voiced my protest against Robin's decision to return to the Holy Land."

"How clever of you!"

She turned her gaze at him. "It is nothing." She burst out laughing.

"Anyway, let's hope that we won't have to encounter the Lionheart, although I am still curious how the legendary warrior looks like."

"I don't care how he looks like."

Will was silent, looking at her for a long moment, and Djaq wondered whether he had heard her. "It is late, and we should go to bed. If you want, I may stay here, with you, for your safety. I will take care of you. I promise not to do anything that may embarrass you."

Djaq raised her startled eyes to him. "Is that all you are going to say?"

He leaned down and kissed her hand. "We are not married." He glanced into her eyes and sighed. "Honestly, I even don't know how we can be married."

She smiled a little sadly. "Despite our different religions, we can still be married, but it is difficult. But we need to ponder over all options; we cannot renounce our Gods.”

"Robin can marry us. As the Earl of Huntingdon, he can witness marriage vows and administer wedding ceremony," Will offered.

Djaq wasn't sure that she wanted to be married under the English law. Robin had strange religious ideas about the unity of God in all religions, but she didn't share them. She needed to think how they could be united in matrimony. "Let's think about that later, in Acre."

He smiled shyly. "As you wish."

"Will, hold me in your arms. Just hold me," Djaq murmured.

Will climbed to his feet and lifted Djaq in his arms, then carried her to the bed. Standing at the foot of the bed, Will held his breath, admiring her beauty. Then he lay next to her and hugged her with a strength that left her weak. He found and covered them with a blanket, on which lingered the scent of jasmine water. Fully dressed, they were in a tight embrace and cuddling together.

"I love you, Djaq," Will whispered into her ear.

Djaq smiled. "I love you, too. Never forget about it."

§§§

Djaq shut her eyes, luxuriating in the strength of his arms pulling her against him. She thanked God that she had Will, who was the brightest and kindest creature whom she could trust and whom she loved with all her being. It was like a fairy-tale that she had found her happiness in the country which she had hated with burning passion from the minute when slave traders had dragged her from the board of the ship in Dover and had told her, laughing and sneering at her, that she would work in the mines in Nottinghamshire where she would most likely die of exhaustion and hard labor. But Robin Hood and the outlaws had saved her, and she had stayed in the country of mists fighting for justice and for the king whom she had never liked and who would never win even her respect.

At first, life in Sherwood Forest had been difficult to say the least. Djaq had been just the young woman surrounded by many men, all of whom had forgotten what a normal life, without risks and constant danger, is like. Robin and Much had been soldiers who had left their home years ago, had fought for survival in the Holy Land, and had never mentally left Acre, living through war’s horrors in their dreams every night, over and over again. Allan had been a vagabond and an expert pickpocket, Little John and Roy had been outlaws for years before Robin’s return, and only Will had been vaguely aware of what usual, routine family life is like. In the realm of the outlaws, she had felt herself like a flower in the desert, blooming in a freedom of the forest, hundreds of miles from her homeland.

She had stayed in England because she had felt obliged to fight at Robin’s side after the hero had saved her from death in the mines. To her utter astonishment, she had quickly gotten accustomed to being a member of Robin Hood’s gang, though at first she had found it had to fight for the abstract ideals of peace and justice she had stopped believing in on the day of her capture in Acre by the Knights Templar who had killed her brother and then had sold her into slavery. She had formed bonds of friendship with the outlaws, becoming especially close with Allan and Will. Robin Hood and his men had formed her whole world, and she had been growing to love the outlaws as her family.

Djaq had a secret: she had been smitten with Robin Hood for quite some time. She had fancied him so much that she had imagined herself falling in love with him. Robin’s light charm had overpowered her depriving her all of her rational senses in his presence. For a long while, she had craved to spend every moment with Robin huddled together near a tree somewhere in the woods talking about everything –  from his crazy, eccentric plans to the days of his early youth, which Robin had often remembered sitting near the campfire and staring into flames. When she had been close to Robin, she had felt respected, cherished, protected, and loved; his cheeky smiles had made her feel strong and sensual, and some of them had even sent a shiver from her scalp to her toes.

Now Djaq could only smile at the thought that she had believed Robin could love her and she could love him. Robin was a flirt and enjoyed being in female company, and he was a prankster and an epitome of a selfless hero, who, however, was flawed in many ways – but he was a good soul and he was just Robin! The foggy understanding that she could never be happy with a man like Robin – the man who sacrificed everything for the most humble soul and who was unconditionally loyal to his king – had evolved into realization that her feelings for Robin had been nothing more than infatuation she herself had created in her mind in the moments when his protection and care had helped her believe in people’s goodness and become herself again. Moreover, she had understood that Robin had loved Marian and there had been no place for anyone else in his heart.

Perhaps it had been God’s providence that she had been delivered to England by slave traders, Djaq thought. In England, she had found not only friends but also the great love that had come to her like the spirit of a morning visiting the dim forest in the hours of awakening. She had noticed Will’s curious glance at her a long time ago, but it had taken her much time to realize her own feelings for him. She had found her way in life and her new purpose living with the outlaws in the forest and watching Robin’s sacrifices, and the sense of exposure to Will’s  romantic sweetness had entered her mind only after the re-established sense of safety. And one day, with a full consciousness which had never awakened before, Djaq had stretched out her arms towards Will and had accepted his love for her, discovering her passion in the unshrinking knowledge of herself and her own destiny.

Now, being so close to Will, Djaq felt a warm rush of desire. She had never been with a man before, but she knew what she wanted to do with him as her body yearned for his touch. She had never seen a naked man before, excluding Will in her dreams after she had fallen in love with him, but now she craved to be with him and reach out for him with her hand. She wanted to make sure her beloved was real, that her mind was not playing tricks and that they were finally together – only the two of them. Djaq shifted on the bed and eagerly touched him, a sensual energy shooting through her core like an electric charge. They were not married yet, but it didn’t matter to her.

“Will, I want us to be together,” Djaq murmured, looking into his eyes. She felt powerless as his arm encircled her waist, and all she wanted was to give herself to him.

Will gazed into her eyes. He gasped in astonishment at her offer, and his heart began to race. “Are you sure, my beloved? We are not married yet.” His voice was husky.

“Yes,” she replied in a dark, seductive tone. “I want this, Will.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“I do,” Djaq said.

Will’s gaze turned more intense. It pierced through Djaq’s heart, making her feel nude in front of him. “I love you, and I will never do anything to hurt you. Please trust me – always trust me,” he whispered as pulled her tightly to him, then slid his hands under her tunic and up her bare legs. Will didn’t have much experience with women and he wasn’t a flirt, but he wasn’t a virgin man – he had been with a young girl in Scarborough where he, Luke, and his father Dan had once gone to visit relatives. He hoped that he would be able to do everything gently and carefully, causing her minimal pain.

“I trust you,” Djaq said in a throaty voice that was languorous with desire. She couldn’t help but caress his chest, his thighs, and his arms.

Will cupped Djaq’s face and kissed her on the mouth, tasting intimate part of her inner being. She responded to his kiss and pulled him closer by his hair while he took her neck into his hands. His mouth upon hers, he moved his hands to her sides and caressed them. Then they removed their clothing, and the vision of their naked bodies was hard to take; they felt insatiable hunger course through their veins. Will pressed his heated body against hers and kissed her in her lips, his right hand sliding down her back and the other supporting her head in his palm. Soon Djaq’s body began to shudder with need, and she writhed from pleasure, wishing him to continue his blessed assault forever.

Will leaned over Djaq, and several delicate words escaped her lips. “You are my soulmate and my love,” she murmured.

“And you are mine,” he breathed. “I have never thought I can love anyone as much as I love you.”

The lovers kissed hard and hungrily, and he moved his body over hers, preparing to unite their bodies in a dance of love. She held him close as she lovingly accepted him inside. The penetration caused her only a twinge of slight pain, for she was very relaxed and consumed with her love for him. His thrusts were slow, gentle, and careful as he was opening a new world of love and passion to her, making her only his and taking her to heights she had never been before. Strong pleasure rushed through them in waves, like a wave of succulent lava, and a shared loud and powerful moan was released. Now they truly belonged to each other.

At the same time, in Robin's luxurious bedchamber, Robin and Much were preparing for the banquet on the first evening of their arrival in Limassol. As usual, Much was fussing over Robin, helping his former master to choose evening attire for the banquet.

Robin chose an azure brocade doublet with V-shaped jeweled, high collar, a black taffeta shirt, and azure brocade flat trousers. He brought many pieces of luxurious clothes from England; he sneaked into the Locksley Manor before their departure, where he collected his old clothes – court attire, his Crusader tunic, and many other things. Thornton gave Robin everything he needed, for he had hidden his master's things in the cellar of the manor on the day when Robin had been outlawed.

Much was introduced as the Baron of Bonchurch, and, given his status, he had to attend the banquet and comply with the court protocol. Robin had many pieces of clothing, and he found a green velvet doublet with black slashing and matching trousers for his friend; only that attire was suitable for Much's size that was larger than Robin's. Finding clothes for John was more difficult, and it was a miracle that Edmund could borrow from one of Crusaders a brown tunic and black trousers of a necessary size.

"Master, you look amazing! I haven't seen you in such elegant clothes for so long! You look like a prince! You wear these clothes as though you had been born in them! Your dashing style will attract much attention tonight!" Much twittered, helping Robin to fasten his doublet.

"Much, I asked you to call me Robin. You are a free man, not my servant. As soon as the king pardons us, you will be officially made the Earl of Bonchurch."

"I know, Robin, I know. I just need time to get accustomed."

"You no longer have to dress me," Robin noticed casually as his friend's fingers were quickly arranging the form of a high collar of his doublet.

Much glanced at Robin. "And who will help you if I am not here?"

"I can hire a personal servant."

"We have no money left, only the funds for our journey the king gave Edmund."

"You are right," Robin agreed reluctantly. “But I can ask Edmund.”

“No, I will take care of you.”

"But you don't have to do a servant's job."

"I must take care of you. Nobody can do this better than me. You cannot take care of yourself, even if you deny that. And I am the best person to take care of you. I know for sure what you love and hate to eat, wear, and do. And I have to be here with you.”

Robin flashed a grateful smile. "Thank you." Much loved him so much, more than anyone else could ever love him. With sickening clarity, he realized that he didn't deserve his friend’s loyalty and love.

Much gave a cry of delight as he finished dressing Robin. “It is done.”

Robin smiled. “Thank you, Much.” Then he stalked towards the mirror and stopped. He laughed as he stared at his own reflection, obviously enjoying what he saw.

Robin chuckled. "A handsome outfit."

"My goodness! You are handsome, not this attire!" Much was impressed and agitated at the same time.

A suddenly serious Robin veered his eyes to Much. "Much, you will need to watch your manners on the banquet while eating and talking."

"But I know how to behave. You attended many feasts in the past, and I was there with you, though I didn’t seat with other noblemen," Much said, saddened that brought that to his attention.

"What, Much?"

Much felt wounded and angry. "You again place me below the station you raised me to. I know that I am a peasant while you are the son of the Earl.  I am still your former servant, even though you made me a free man. I don't have noble blood in my veins."

Robin sighed. "I didn't mean to offend you." He sighed again. "I only wanted to say that we should be careful with our appearance and manners because Guy de Lusignan and others shouldn't think that King Richard's loyal subjects became wild after living in the forest for so long."

Much's face visibly brightened. "Ah, Robin, you are so clever! You have a keen mind! Of course, they all will watch us tonight. We cannot shame ourselves.”

Robin's lips quirked in a smile. "Yes, Much."

Robin took a sapphire jeweled belt, one of those many belts he had grown to love so much at the royal court in Poitiers in his early youth. He clasped the belt around his waist, and then placed his scimitar into the scabbard that also hung at his belt. He didn’t need to have his weapons during the banquet, but it was a Crusader’s habit to be always armed.

Robin stared at himself in the mirror. The big oval mirror reflected his image in a golden haze from the candlelight. A little sadly, he contemplated the perfection of his appearance and the paleness of his cheeks and lips. He looked like a very handsome young courtier, though his face was excessively pale and his blue eyes didn’t twinkle - instead there was hardness in his gaze. He didn’t use perfume at all, for he hated when perfume around a male courtier was all the air one could breathe.

"This belt is certainly beautiful, Robin.”

As he smiled, Robin slipped the large emerald ring, with the Huntingdon family crest, on his finger. “Richard gave this belt to me on my fifteenth anniversary.”

"I remember, Robin. It is a really magnificent thing!” Much exclaimed. “Our king always gave you gifts on your birthdays, even when we were in Outremer.”

Robin heaved a long sigh. “Well, there was no case when our king forgot about birthdays of his favorites and close friends, and I have never forgotten his birthdays.”

Much let out a scream of delight. “Our king has a generous nature!”

“Yes, that is true.” Robin smiled vaguely.

A concentrated Much surveyed Robin’s appearance again. “Robin, you haven’t changed at all! You look so young!” He chuckled. “You are still in favor of Aquitanian fashion? I remember that you were besotted by all these belts and ornaments on doublets and shirts.”

“You think it is not my style, don’t you? You don’t like it?" Robin asked, frowning.

Much shook his head. “No, no. This belt suits you very well. I also like all these… luxurious things on you,” he hurried to say to reassure Robin of his good looks. “It stresses the slender curves of your waist and your general slimness, which is a part of your magic charm. I have always been in awe how slender and at the same time well-proportioned you are, Robin.” He ran his eyes over Robin’s figure. “Your body has enough muscles, but you are still so slender.”

Robin shrugged. “My appetite has always been the first thing to suffer when my mood is foul.”

“Well, I mean your natural slimness!”

“I know, Much.” Robin winked at him. “But today I will eat and drink, I assure you. I won’t be as slim as I am now for long, believe me.”

“You will drink more than eat, as always,” Much parried. “Oh, I am so different. I am so hungry! I will eat a lot! I want to try all these delicacies that will be served today.”

"Hah!” Robin thundered. “Please, just don’t eat everything. Leave something for me. Otherwise, I will become an avenging angel, and I will wield a sword of justice against you, my friend.”

Much let out a sigh of relief as Robin’s spirits seemed to have improved. “I will leave you everything you want, Robin. Enjoy today’s banquet, please. Don’t think of the past.”

“We should go now,” Robin said with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.
> 
> Much, Robin, and Edmund have a conversation about the Saracen attack and the tragic events in Robin's childhood. In this story/novel, I assume that Much knew about the bad blood between Guy and Robin; Much was in the Locksley Manor on the day of the fire.
> 
> They also speak about King Richard's behavior after the Saracen attack, which proves how much King Richard loved his dear Robin. On the show, it was implied that Robin was one of the king's favorites and Richard loved him more than other knights; he also was the head of the king’s private guard. I am going to cover this loophole and analyze Robin’s relationship with the king in details.
> 
> I want to say something about the character arcs of the main characters - Robin and Guy.
> 
> Guy and Robin have different character arcs, but they both are conflicted characters.
> 
> Robin has three inner conflicts. The first conflict is between his loyalty to England/to the King and his loyalty to the people & his love for Marian. The second conflict is between Robin’s willingness to suppress the darkness and the effort required to do that, for it is always easier to kill than not to kill, especially for a professional soldier and an ex-Crusader like Robin. 
> 
> The third conflict is between Robin’s idealistic principles and the realistic picture of the world: he is fighting for peace and justice, but there can never be universal peace and absolute justice in the world, and Robin Hood’s fight is futile in the long run.
> 
> Guy is also a conflicted character, which indeed makes him a complex character and which is the reason why many fans call him ‘the most complex character on the show’ – but it is an illusion.
> 
> Guy has two main inner conflicts. The first conflict is between the light and the darkness which battle for dominance in the heart of this man who serves the sheriff and does bad things but whose heart craves for redemption. 
> 
> His second conflict is between his desire to earn power and his ability to understand that power doesn’t give happiness and peace; this conflict is resolved once Guy begins to redeem himself, though not entirely because I’m sure that even the redeemed Guy would always be prone to step into the darkness in case he again has to do that to survive.
> 
> Guy doesn’t have conflict of idealism with realism. He knows how dark the world can be whilst Robin begins to understand that only in S3, though he doesn’t lose all his illusions about King Richard, life, and the cause. 
> 
> I think that in S3 Finale Robin’s journey wasn’t finished not only because he didn’t bring the King (which was his main mission!) home but also because there was a huge potential for the development of Robin’s disillusionment arc. I also don’t think that Guy redeemed himself in S3 Finale and he had a long and serpentine way ahead too.
> 
> On the show, Robin was a protagonist that struggles to overcome internal opposition – the pain he feels when he remembers the years he spent in the Holy Land, the horrors of the war he wants to forget, and his failure to take care of the people during his long absence in the Holy Land. 
> 
> At the same time, Robin also faces external opposition: he fought against Prince John, the sheriff, Guy, and oppression, and he also fought to prove Marian his feelings, his love for her, and earn her trust. Robin’s character arc is the grown arc – to become a fuller, better person, who matures throughout the show and finally becomes a little but not entirely disillusioned.
> 
> Guy’s case is very different. Guy is an antagonist destined to change on the show in S3: he is a character whose core values will undergo more radical transformation than Robin’s. 
> 
> It doesn’t mean that Guy’s character changes from a villain with redeeming qualities into a savior and a hero, but the transformation is quite radical as he is slowly moving closer to the point when he is ready to break from the sheriff and becomes his own man, a better man than he was in S1. Guy changes as the plot develops, it means that Guy’s character is the change arc.
> 
> Character arcs of Robin and Guy are different. The growth they show throughout the series is different. 
> 
> Robin becomes a fuller person, though his character arc could have taken the drastic direction and would have become a change arc if the show’s writers would have taken the route to write him as a disillusioned idealist.
> 
> Robin is a more tragic character than Guy because Robin Hood’s cause is ultimately futile and because he fights for abstract ideals that can never exist in real life, especially in the Middle Ages, the period when violence was a normal part of everyday life.
> 
> All the above is fully reflected in how I portray Robin and Guy.


	4. Humanity

**Chapter 4**

**Humanity**

The great hall in the Castle of Limassol was newly whitewashed. The walls were draped with tapestries depicting ancient mythological scenes, beautiful sea views, and outdoor festivities. Candles flickering in their tall sconces illuminated numerous faces of lords and ladies sitting at the banquet tables. The Lusignan coat of arms in the windowpanes glittered down onto the candlelit tables, and from the gallery above the room, a consort of musicians played sweet music for the guests.

Robin sat between Guy de Lusignan, the King of Cyprus, and Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester and captain of the second guard of the king’s own forces. Sir Henry de Champagne and his wife, Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, sat next to Leicester. There were many Crusaders in the great hall – the Knights Templar and King Richard's guards. The main topic of all conversations was the political situation in Christendom and the Third Crusade; Robin listened more than talked, watching and memorizing. The outlaws occupied places in the different part of the hall.

Robin scanned the room with his eyes. The guests milled around three long tables covered with white sheets of damask and silver candelabras. It was an elaborate feast: all food and delicacies – fresh herring, stewed capon, savory rice, a spectacular roasted peacock refitted with feathers, Octopus, rissoles of beef marrow, pea and poultry soups, custard, and nut sweetmeats – were served with spiced wine, hippocras, and malmsey. The aroma of incense and perfume mingled with the smell of delicious food and wine, and Robin's head was spinning from all these scents.

As his mind drifted back to the old days, Robin smiled. They were exactly in the same hall where King Richard and Princess Berengaria, the daughter of the King of Navarre, had been married on the Feast of St Pancras several years ago. Robin remembered how the beautiful, fragile young woman had exchanged marriage vows with King Richard, had been crowned the Queen of England, and then had seated at the king's left hand at the feast. The king had been merry and full of delight on that day. For Robin, it had been the first time when he had seated at Richard's right hand.

"Milord, whom do you consider the most suitable successor?" Robin asked, his eyes scrutinizing Guy de Lusignan with an intensive gaze.

"As I am not planning to remarry, I will remain childless. I plan to make Aimery de Lusignan, my elder brother, my successor," Guy de Lusignan answered in a formal voice as he sipped wine from a silver goblet and placed it on the table. "Of course, if King Richard approves of my choice."

Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, emptied a goblet of wine. "It is a good choice," he replied. "King Richard will surely like this idea."

Robin glanced at Robert de Beaumont. Robert was Robin’s best friend among the nobles. They had met while having the knighthood training in Poitiers when they had been fifteen. Since then, they always were together – saving each other’s lives, saving the king’s life, and embarking on mischievous adventures, including amorous escapades, all the while courting trouble.

Captain Locksley and Captain Beaumont were the two stars at King Richard’s war court in Outremer. In the Holy Land, they both were famous for their valor, fierceness, heroism, and bravery on the battlefield. Besides, they were one the most human generals among Richard’s knights, and the Saracens respected them for their humanity. They were two people who were ready to sacrifice everything for their King and England. Robin of Locksley was the best marksman in King Richard’s army, as well as one of the best swordsmen while Robert de Beaumont was considered the best swordsman among the Crusaders and was also highly competent with a bow. Besides, Robert was known as the best swordsman in Christendom.

Robert de Beaumont wore a dashing green and black satin doublet with flat trousers and a matching satin shirt. He was a strong and muscular man of an average height, proportionally built and with broad shoulders. His handsome young face boasted stern, cold handsomeness, which was softened by the mischievous twinkle in his pale green eyes, his devilish charm, and his impish grin that reminded of Robin’s cheeky smiles. Like Robin, he was boyish and mischievous, and he always guarded his true emotions. As he led a sea of the king’s men to great victories, he still retained manners and charm of the most civilized courtier.

The Earl of Huntingdon and the Earl of Leicester were _ladies men_. There were legends about their love escapades at the royal courts. At the same time, Leicester was quite different from Huntingdon: Robert was a frequent visitor of wanton brothels in and also kept countless mistresses. The Earl of Leicester was a philander, like Prince John: he loved beautiful women, whomever they were – servant girls, peasants, married or unmarried noblewomen, and even maidens. Robin was more modest than Robert. Still, ladies always whispered that the handsome faces of Huntingdon and Leicester could win a heart of any woman and that almost every girl would give everything for one night with each of them.

Robin smiled heartily at Robert who smiled back and winked. He missed Robert very much while he was in England, praying that he wouldn’t be seriously wounded or killed in Acre. Robert was one of the few people who understood him very well; even Much understood him worse.

"I am glad, I am very glad." De Lusignan smiled, his eyes darting between Leicester and Robin. "Lord Huntingdon, I am delighted to see you here. When did we meet last time?"

"More than two years ago in Acre," Robin replied.

Guy de Lusignan was quite a handsome, tall and well-formed, man, with short dark hair and hazel eyes, his face clean-shaven in the fashion of Outremer. Being not much older than King Richard, Guy seemed rather young to be a man who had gained and lost the Kingdom of Jerusalem and its queen, and then had been rewarded with another kingdom – Cyprus.

The de Lusignan family had long been a thorn under the Angevin control: they had repeatedly rebelled against King Henry II and Richard himself when he had been Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Poitou, and in the past they had even dared ambush Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, who had been saved from capture by young William Marshal. Then Guy's brother Aimery had escaped to the Holy Land to evade King Henry's wrath, Guy had also sailed with him to Outremer. Guy de Lusignan had been considered a feckless man, and he hadn’t been taken seriously by many important people of the time until he had ensnared Sibylla of Jerusalem who had taken him as her husband.

Robin looked at de Lusignan and smiled, but it was a false smile. He had never liked the man and had always been cautious towards him. De Lusignan was very attentive to Richard and Berengaria, as well as to the king's closest entourage; he was pleasant and lavish with the practiced charm that had served him so well in the past. Guy's eyes were dark, unfathomable pools, and there were cunning and hypocrisy in the air around the man, and Robin felt that with his skin.

Robin had been grimly amused when de Lusignan had been granted Cyprus. He had advised Richard against making Guy the ruler of such strategically important lands. But Richard had had something in his mind and had gone against recommendations of his advisors. Robin still didn't understand the king's decision. Maybe Richard favored de Lusignan because the man had chosen his side when King Philippe of France had supported Conrad de Montferrat in the quest for the crown of Jerusalem. Whatever reasons were, Robin didn't like de Lusignan and nothing could change his attitude to the man.

Guy de Lusignan chuckled. "Sir Robin, I have heard so many fabulous stories about your adventures in England. You are Robin Hood, aren't you?"

Robin felt anger stir in his heart; de Lusignan taunted him with his outlaw status. "Monsieur de Lusignan, you are right. I am Robin Hood," he replied, a self-contented smile on his face.

"How was your life in England? Was it better than on the battlefields of Outremer?" de Lusignan questioned with a wry smile.

Robin smiled. "It was the best time in my life. My little adventure in the woods was truly great." His voice sounded annoyingly relaxed. "Nothing may replicate the pleasure and satisfaction that you experience in a freedom of the woods, when you don’t have to comply with rules of the court."

De Lusignan smirked. "Did you like sleeping under the sky and stars?"

For a brief moment, something flashed deep Robin’s eyes as his gaze met de Lusignan’s – an infinite mourning that was rupturing him from the inside out. He instinctively associated England with Marian’s betrayal, and the waves of his sadness and pain assaulted him. He held his breath for a second, then let it out, feeling that he had vanquished his emotions and recovered his control. “I don’t think that you really care about my days in the woods,” he noticed with a supercilious smile. "But I suggest that you come to Sherwood if you want to see the wonderful beauty of the forest with your own eyes." He grinned. "I assure you, milord, that life in the woods is much less monotonous than at any court."

The King of Cyprus frowned. Unlike many others, de Lusignan had never liked the young lord, thinking that Robin was an arrogant, spoiled, and boastful brat whose behavior was often on the verge of complacency, extravagance, and even madness; he also envied that Robin had King Richard's highest favor. Moreover, in the past, his wife Sibylla had been smitten with the handsome, devilishly charming young archer who had been given highest praises by Richard on his wedding feast. Although his wife had already died, he was still displeased that Sibylla had been infatuated with Robin.

Leicester smiled at Robin. "My dear King of Sherwood, where is your crown?"

Robin laughed. "It is hidden in the depths of the woods, Robert. When we return to England, you may visit Nottingham and I will show you my kingdom."

"Robin, you are a legend," Leicester said as he took a small sip of wine. "I envy you, and I would love to be a part of your adventure. If I returned to England and found my people starving and suffering in tyranny of a mad, sadistic sheriff, I would have definitely rebelled and would have fled with you to the forest. I wouldn't have watched my peasants being oppressed and enduring cruelty inflicted on them for sheer pleasure of doing so and observing the results."

Robin laughed and sipped wine from his cup. "Then we would have been Robin Hood and Robert Hood. People would have been confused."

Leicester laughed back, and de Lusignan forced a smile for form’s sake. Robin and Robert's unusual sense of humor was a burden the King of Cyprus had to bear.

"Of course, Robin, you don’t want to share the people's love with me," Leicester continued, smiling with an amicable, haughty smile, so similar to Robin's. "Don't worry, my friend. Even if I were with you on your personal crusade, I would have taken another nickname – something like Robert the Fair."

Robin swirled a lock of his hair behind an ear. "It would be a strong name for the people's hero."

Leicester smiled. "Truly. Robin Hood and Robert the Fair!"

Robin turned away from Leicester and let his gaze dwell on the women in the banqueting hall. There were many ladies, and many of them looked at him with interest. He had had lots of flirts and quite many lovers, and all those women had one thing in common – they had been shallow and it had been just fun to sleep with them before he had become annoyed with them. But now Robin suddenly realized that he looked at them with contempt, but that was beyond his control. Something was happening in the inmost depths of his being, and it was again linked to his personal tragedy – the loss of Marian.

Robin raised a jeweled goblet to his lips, drinking red spiced liquid slowly, in a typical manner of a cultured and elegant nobleman. He placed a half-empty goblet on the table, thinking that wine was most probably one of local origin. Guessing his thoughts, Guy de Lusignan informed him that the guests were offered many Persian wines and only some French wines. Robin smirked, thinking that the best wines were in Aquitaine, especially the wines from the Loire Valley.

Guy de Lusignan snapped his fingers, and stewards started serving the special delicacies of Outremer – sugar, oranges, figs, dates, quinces, and melons. The East was famous for white bread and _fruits of paradise_ – bananas, artichokes, asparagus, and truffles. All of this improved Robin’s natural appetite, and his spirits quickly revived. Everyone smiled and laughed, and it was difficult to believe that it was past midnight and ounces of wine and ale had been consumed.

Robin shifted his gaze from the Lusignan, and his eyes met the hard gaze of Sir Henry de Champagne, Count de Champagne and nephew of both King Philip II of France and King Richard I of England. He was the son of Marie de France, daughter of King Louis VII of France and Eleanor of Aquitaine. He was King of Jerusalem by his marriage to Isabella of Jerusalem, although he didn’t style himself as king. De Champagne’s wife, Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, regarded Robin with a frenzied lust in her eyes.

Robin smiled at the couple, his eyebrow raised quizzically. Isabella smiled faintly, and Henry forced a smile too. Robin’s eyes took in Isabella's appearance: the lady was beautiful in her low-cut gown of lemon-yellow silk, with airy sleeves embroidered with palm-leaves in silver.

The Earl of Huntingdon eyed Count de Champagne, who looked splendid in his black doublet and black trousers trimmed in silver thread. De Champagne, with his pale skin, dark brown hair, high forehead, full-lipped mouth, Roman nose, and the mannerism he owed to his French blood, was a physically attractive man to an extreme extent. His great expertise with a sword had earned him undying respect. The gossip was that Isabella of Jerusalem had dreamt of marrying him since their first meeting, despite carrying the child of her previous husband, the murdered Conrad de Montferrat.

Isabella smiled, twitching her hips. "Lord Huntingdon, you have changed since our last meeting!"

"Lady Isabella, I am delighted to see you," Robin said, grinning at her. "I hope I don't look older now."

"No, milord! You look much better!" Isabella exclaimed. "There is something romantic and sentimental around you; you don't look like a weary Crusader. You are the hero of so many ballads and songs!"

"You are flattering me, Lady Isabella. I don't deserve this," Robin said tonelessly, and then his eyes flew to de Champagne. "Monsieur Henry, it has been quite some time since we met."

"Indeed, Lord Robin." It was obvious that Henry disliked Robin very much. "You have done many great things since our last meeting, milord."

Robin raised a goblet, drinking wine. "Monsieur Henry, does it really matter? The greatness is not measured by luxuries and rewards but by people's ability to remember at least your name. If I am right, then it is true that I have achieved something great."

"For a royal favorite you are rather unusual, Lord Robin," Henry said drily. "In any case, I hope you will help us make peace with Saladin. Your understanding of the Saracen culture is a gift from heaven."

Robin tilted his head to one side. "Peace in the Holy Land is our first priority."

"Then you have my warmest sympathies, milord. But if Richard makes you and me key negotiators of the peace treaty, I won’t work with you," Henry declared bluntly.

"Henry! Henry!" Isabella gasped with amazement. "Are you mad? What are you talking about?"

Henry made a movement of his shoulders which precisely expressed his opinion. "I am not mad."

"Why are you treating Lord Huntingdon so rudely, Henry?" Isabella burst out impatiently. "Where are your manners, husband? Have you forgotten whom you are talking to?"

There was the utterly arrogant look on Henry’s face. "I just mean that I want to work on the peace treaty with Saladin without Huntingdon."

"Do you want to exclude King Richard's people from the peace negotiations?" Robin smiled slightly.

"I prefer my counselors whom I trust," Henry replied brusquely.

"Well, that’s a lovely idea." Robin pointed a finger at him, his mouth slightly upturned in a smile. "Monsieur Henry, you should personally ask King Richard to include only French and Norman lords in the negotiation party, for it seems that you chronically dislike all Saxon lords."

Isabella laughed. "Huntingdon, you are a witty bird! Your bickering is funny."

"Oh, yes, very funny," Henry retorted back, irritated.

Robin shook his head with a sad little smile, a tiny spark of displeasure igniting into a fiery blaze in his eyes. "On a serious note, let me tell you, Monsieur Henry, something that you won’t like. You think that you can act independently and insolently if King Richard and King Philippe are your uncles, but you are mistaken. The fact is that the higher your social standing is, the more dependent on others you are. The higher you rise, the more well-informed you have to be of your surroundings and the more cautious you must be not to fall. This is a rule for both the king's nephew and the king's favorite."

Henry laughed. "You have always been a clever and sharp-witted lad, Lord Huntingdon."

Robin tossed his head to throw back a long strand of sandy hair that trailed across his face. "Yeah, well, this is a nice compliment." A smug but distant half-smile curved his lips. "If you have climbed too high, you have to be extremely careful, especially if you want to achieve a higher level of greatness, in our case to sign a peace treaty. Collaboration is necessary even amongst royal favorites."

"A very fine and impressive answer, milord," Henry murmured, his eyes twinkling in appreciation.

"It is your business to be a diplomat on Cyprus, so why not be a little more diplomatic with me?" Robin said tauntingly, hinting at the bluntness de Champagne had applied towards him tonight.

"If you need me before we start negotiations with Saladin, I will find time for you, sire. King Richard will surely want us to cooperate," Henry shot back, smiling ruefully.

A goblet of wine in his hand, Robin regarded Henry with an indulgent smile. "I submit myself to King Richard's will. Let our gracious king decide such sensitive things."

"Let's leave all such matters to King Richard, my friends," the Earl of Leicester interjected in a light tone, endeavoring to the defuse tension in the air.

"In return for what?" Isabella laughed.

"Yeah, for nothing – or nothing to signify," Robin retorted, grinning sheepishly.

They laughed, everyone breathing a sigh of relief that Leicester had intervened in time before Robin and Henry dragged themselves into a verbal sparring match.

Robin gazed at de Champagne wonderingly, thinking of his relationship with the king's nephew. They had never liked each another because of Henry's desire to compete with Robin for Richard's favor; Robin detested any kind of competition for the king's attention and trust. It was not right to fight for the king's trust, affection, patronage, and favor.

Robin wasn't a royal favorite elevated from a humble background. In his position of the head of the king's private guard and Richard's friend, he could have asked his liege to grant him more lands or give him a new title, but he had never done that. Robin accepted only some of the king’s rewards; he had once rejected the king’s offer to give him the second earldom. He was born in a rich noble Saxon family of a high social standing and with powerful connections; he was content with what he had inherited from his father. Robin had never intended to gain royal favor - it had just happened.

These three men – Robin of Locksley, Robert de Beaumont, and Henry de Champagne – were not low-born nobles, but they viewed royal favor differently. Robin and Robert did nothing or almost nothing to win more favor. Henry was jealous of Richard as he didn't want to share his responsibilities and authority with the king’s other favorites. But they had one thing in common – they didn't use King Richard’s favor to their own advantage.

The evening was an emphatic success, with merry entertainment provided by troubadours and musicians and a lively conversation. A French minstrel from the sun-warmed south sang and strummed sonorously and recited verses from a popular chanson. Soon stewards again began to pass among the guests offering trays laden with flowers and dainties and fruits.

Little John observed Robin converse with Leicester and other Crusaders. "Robin is feeling much better."

Much gave a nod. "It is good that he is in the company of his old friends. At least he is not as gloomy and depressed as he was on the ship."

"I suspect that it is a mask."

"Yes, John. But at least Robin is distracted from his fixation on Marian's betrayal."

John contemplated changes in Robin, sighing. "Now Robin truly looks like the Earl of Huntingdon and the Lord of Locksley. It is the first time when I see him on a grand banquet, dressed in expensive clothes and surrounded by so many mighty nobles. He is heartbroken, but he is flourishing in attention to him." He raised a goblet and gulped wine. "I wonder if this arrogant nobleman, whom I see now, expects us to address him as 'milord', even after he spent so much time with us in the forest."

Much lost his breath in an exhalation of astonishment. "No, John! No! No!” he protested zealously. “Never say that about Robin. When we traveled together with King Richard to the Holy Land, we were in Messina and on Cyprus, and we also attended many feasts. Robin always was near the king, but I swear he has never been as high and mighty as other noblemen; he never treated simple people like dirt."

"Robin treated us very well, and he became my friend, but I have always felt that he made a distinction between himself and us, the outlaws."

"Yes." Much nodded. "He thinks that we don't understand politics as well as he does."

"And does he understand it?"

"Better than we do, John."

John smiled. "Yes, Robin treated us well and without pomposity; but there was still something that separated him from us."

"His loyalty and devotion to King Richard," Much pointed out.

"Yes."

Much made a large gulp of wine. “Okay,” he murmured on a sigh as he slammed his goblet on the table. As he looked at John, his eyes were bright with anger, his mouth set in a tight line, for he didn’t like when anyone criticized Robin, even though he himself was often hurt by Robin’s callous attitude. "It is true that Robin wants – needs – to be admired and loved by his friends and people; he thrives on love and attention. But can you blame him for this? Wouldn’t anyone in his shoes feel the same?" He blinked, sighing deeply; his anger already slackened. "I thought you saw that Robin is not a usual nobleman. After all, he gave up his lands to fight for justice. In childhood, he always was close to his people; you are from Locksley and should remember young Robin."

"When I lived in Locksley, before I was outlawed, Robin was a generous and fair landlord, but he remained a nobleman. He was spoiled and pampered in childhood, even after his father's death."

"Robin has changed," Much stated.

John dipped his head in agreement. "Adulthood and war changed him from an arrogant, spoiled child into an arrogant but kind and self-sacrificing man. Yet, he will be so full of himself till his dying day."

"Right."

Little John laughed. "Much, I think you have misunderstood me. I don't blame Robin for his arrogance and cockiness, for he does incredible things which others cannot do. He loves glory and needs to be loved, but he deserves the love he gets – he truly deserves it."

Much’s face brightened. “Yes, he deserves the people’s love!” His voice was so steady, so sure. "Robin is full of himself, but he never forgets about others. He is very compassionate and cares even about the most humble souls. He can give everything, even his own life, to save innocents."

John smiled broadly. "And this I like in him the most." He sighed. "It is just that I have never seen Robin among so many nobles, people equal to him."

"Believe me that nothing will change. He won't keep things impersonal and official."

John sighed with frustration. "I have never been at such banquets before. I am not accustomed to lavishness and frivolity. And I feel uncomfortable. This I don’t like."

Much was happy, enjoying the lavish atmosphere at the court. He certainly liked that he was treated as a nobleman and sat with other nobles. "I am happy to be here. Food is delicious and is served by stewards. I don't have to serve and to cook. The feast is magnificent. There are many entertainments here. We can do what we want. There are many old friends around, and we are happy to see them." He put a large piece of cheese into his mouth. "There are so many lovely ladies here." He blushed as the image of the wonderful blonde-haired Eve flashed in his mind.

John didn't comment on Much's tirade. "Robin is very close to the Earl of Leicester," he observed.

Much pursed his lips. He was jealous of Robin. "Lord Leicester is Robin's old friend. They met in Poitou eleven years ago," he responded. "Roger of Stoke was with them at court."

John smiled kindly. "It seems they all know each one for so long."

"Lord Leicester is like Robin – he is a shining star in the sky. Everyone loves his charming, easy-going personality and admires him for his heroism and bravery."

"I like Lord Leicester." Leicester was one of the most attentive and outspoken Crusaders, and treated John very well; he even asked John about his life in Locksley before John had been outlawed.

"There are many good people among the king’s men. You will like them."

As the guests of honor, the Earl of Leicester and Count de Champagne made long, high-spirited speeches and thanked Guy de Lusignan for hospitality. De Lusignan welcomed Robin of Locksley on Cyprus and wished him to have a pleasant journey to Acre. With a twisted smile of deep distaste and fake gladness, the King of Cyprus declared that Robin of Locksley and Robert de Beaumont would undoubtedly cover themselves with everlasting glory in Acre, calling them _‘the kings of glory.’_

After de Lusignan's speech, each pair of eyes in the hall was attached to Robin. The guests discussed Robin’s return to the Holy Land, and his popularity exceeded that of Leicester and de Champagne. Many guests were happy to see Robin again, but some, however, had to hide their resentment and envy. Robin didn't care about that, even feeling a small twinge of guilt over the lack of pleasure from being at the feast. The Earl of Leicester began to joke as he talked to Robin and de Lusignan, and Robin smiled, though his smile didn’t reach down to the anguish-filled depths of his heart.

§§§

Robin Hood and his gang disappeared from Nottingham. Sheriff Peter Vaisey of Nottingham was happy that nobody prevented him from ruling in tyranny. He could finally breathe with full lungs: he could collect taxes, oppress townspeople and villagers, and do everything to please Prince John, satisfying the prince’s unalloyed greed and hunger for power. Moreover, the outlaws no longer interfered with the constant scheming of the Black Knights to overthrow King Richard.

Vaisey was able to charge twofold taxes from the peasants of Locksley, Clun, Nettlestone, and other villages in the shire. The sheriff renewed executing and torturing people for pleasure as Robin Hood didn't stop hangings in his most dramatic and theatrical manner. No one ambushed travelers on the Great North Road, and passage through Sherwood to Nottingham became less risky for men with fat purses. Vaisey perceived a deathly silence in Sherwood not only as a disturbing sign but also as proof that Robin was plotting something.                                                

 _Unlike Vaisey, Guy of Gisborne wasn't sure that Robin Hood was plotting._ He believed that the outlaw had retreated to Sherwood to grieve the loss of Marian. He hoped that heartbreak would make Robin reckless and foolhardy: the outlaw would make a mistake and would be captured, and then he, Guy, would finally take the last thing from him – his life. The problem was that Robin had disappeared without a trace, and so had the outlaws.

The absence of news about Robin Hood unnerved Vaisey more and more with every day passing, and, in the end, his uneasiness evolved into black fury. At first, Vaisey tried to keep his head cool, but Sir Jasper of Ashton, Prince John’s inspector and loyal man, had sent several messages to him from the prince with the demand to find Robin Hood. As of late, the sheriff’s temper was fraying badly. Guy and Allan tried to avoid the sheriff’s company in the castle, but it was impossible because their master always needed them for a new errand, and they had to endure endless humiliation and insults from Vaisey.

Guy of Gisborne was searching for Robin Hood with the fierce determination to put an end to the life of his mortal foe. But after several days of patrolling Sherwood with an army of guards and countless hounds, Guy’s spirits plummeted and anger superseded his enthusiasm. Neither hounds nor people were able to find the outlaws' hideouts and the camp, and their trips to the forest were just a waste of time. Guy pressured Allan to lead him to the outlaws' camp, but Allan said that Robin and his men had abandoned their old camp after Robin had banished him from the gang.

The yellow disk of the sun was just beginning its downward journey toward night, and the green forest shimmered in gold and orange. Guy of Gisborne headed the search convoy. Allan-a-Dale rode next to his master. Sir Jasper of Ashton was next to them. They were surrounded by more than fifty guards. Remembering how Robin Hood and his men had slaughtered dozens of guards in two bloody battles in the forest, Gisborne always surrounded himself with an army of guards going to the woods.

The guards were scared to ride through Sherwood Forest after the last bloody battle, and Guy was angry that his men were afraid of just one man who puffed up with a vain conceit of himself and who almost considered himself a God of Sherwood. Yet, if he was honest with himself, Guy feared to face Robin since their meeting in the Holy Land when Robin had foiled the assassination attempt on the king's life. Although Robin had established the non-killing code after his return from the Crusade, he had broken that code twice: when he had slaughtered the sheriff and Gisborne's guards near the cave after the treacherous Doctor Pitts had led Vaisey to the gang's hiding place and when he had mercilessly killed the guards in the recent battle on the Great North Road.

Gisborne and his men had already spent several hours in Sherwood, but there was no sign of Robin Hood and his gang anywhere around. It was already getting dark, a new day passed in search for any trace of the outlaws without success. It was not their first attempt to find Robin in the forest: in the past two weeks, they had tried many times, but they had failed so far.

"Hood!" Sir Guy of Gisborne squawked. "Show yourself, you coward!"

Allan inwardly shuddered. "They must be hiding amongst the trees. It is not easy to discover them."

Gisborne stared at his right-hand man. "Why can Hood lie low for so many weeks?"

Allan shook his head in uncertainty. "There should be a reason."

"Is Hood such a craven that he is afraid of facing us?"

Allan laughed. "By the faith of his heart, Robin is not a coward. He will always be there you don't expect him to be. He will always have a plan to deprive you of your wealth. If you abide his coming, he will come to you and test your courage with his outstanding fighting skills and ingenious tricks."

"You admire Hood?" Guy's contempt was obvious in the curving of his lips and his tone.

"I don't understand why Hood does many things," Allan said cautiously. He said the truth: he wasn't as idealistic as Robin was. "But you have to agree that Robin is a unique man."

Guy stopped his horse next to Allan’s. He leaned forward and gripped the collar of Allan's black doublet. "I have always doubted your loyalty. Are you looking for a way back to Sherwood?"

Allan looked calm despite feeling the danger emanating from Guy. "I made my choice when I agreed to be your spy in Robin's camp, Gisborne. I think that I have already proved my loyalty to you."

Guy was furiously angry, misdirecting his rage at Allan. "Do you really think that you have proved your loyalty to me when you told me about one hideout and several traps?"

"Sir Guy, I did enough for you," Allan defended himself, holding Guy's gaze. "You gave me power and a chance for a better life. I am no longer an outlaw. I have good food and a roof over my head." He smiled. "Do you really think that I want to throw away comfort and security? I am not Robin who can live in the forest and fight for abstract ideals." He hated himself at that moment. He lied so naturally, and his words sounded convincing. He missed the gang, especially Djaq and Will. He missed Robin too, even though at times he was irritated with the hero’s arrogance, dramatics, and theatrics.

"Then prove it now and tell me where Hood's new camp is."

"I don’t know. They relocated after Hood had discovered my true allegiances."

Guy's eyes glittered with danger. "I hope you are not lying, Allan. There is one thing that I cannot stand – it is a betrayal." His face was so close to Allan's that the two men felt each other's breathing. "If you betray me, you will regret that you were born."

"I have chosen my side. You don't need to warn me. I know what you can do."

"Is Hood planning something? Where is this knave?"

"Who knows?" Allan shrugged. "Maybe Robin was injured. Then he may be recovering now."

"If he is sick, then where are the outlaws? Why did they stop visiting the villages?"

"Maybe something happened." Allan didn't know what to answer.

Guy said with a sneer, "Maybe the champion of the poor is so heartbroken that he no longer cares for his peasants." He hinted that he had taken Marian from Robin.

Allan ignored Guy's sarcastic statement. He suspected that there might be some truth in Guy's words, and that worried him. "Guy, it is already getting dark," he remarked.

Gisborne scowled. "We will continue searching until I order to stop," he hissed. He narrowed his eyes at Allan. "It that clear, Allan?"

Allan shook his head. "Yes."

"Continue searching," Gisborne commanded. "Be attentive and careful. They may hide among the trees and attack us unexpectedly."

Sir Jasper of Ashton spurred on his horse and rode to Gisborne. "Gisborne, Prince John will be very displeased. All your plans to capture Hood are ineffective."

Guy clenched his jaw and was silent for a moment before he spoke. "You may tell Prince John that I will give him Robin Hood’s head on a golden tray. I need more time."

"How much time?" Sir Jasper arched a brow.

"Just a little more time," Gisborne burst out. "Hood has his vulnerable sides – his love for his peasants and his self-sacrificing nature. I will use this against him."

Sir Jasper smirked. "Good luck," he said skeptically as he didn't believe that the great outlaw would ever be captured by both Vaisey and Gisborne.

Vaisey was so enraged by the new failure that he had doubled the price on Robin's head. He set up new traps for Robin, but nobody saved unfortunate villagers and robbed carts with silver and gold. He thought that many villagers would be happy to receive a huge bounty on Hood's head and would betray the outlaw. The problem was that Robin and the gang had left Sherwood and there was nobody in England who could help to the sheriff find Robin. He could offer golden angels to anybody or take the matter into his own hands, but all his attempts would be futile.

"Gisborne! Gisborne! Come to me, you blithering idiot!" Dressed in rich black robes, with the sleeves trimmed with fur, the sheriff sat in a high-back armchair at the desk with parchments. “How am I supposed to get it through your thick head that you have to come to me immediately if I need you? You must always be around!” When Guy entered, he scowled fiercely. “Ah, you are finally here! I am displeased that you walk so slowly and I have to wait for your arrival in my study room for so long.”

Guy lowered his head. “I am sorry, my lord.”

The scowl on the sheriff’s face deepened. “You are an undereducated imbecile! Your incompetent guards are even more foolish! You spent so much time in Sherwood and haven’t found Robin Hood yet."

Guy glanced back at the sheriff. “I will rectify the situation. I need more time and more guards to patrol the forest,” he assured his master. In reality, he feared that he would fail to find Hood.

The sheriff emptied a goblet of wine. "You have been patrolling the forest for so long, but there is no result."

"Hood must be hiding," Guy muttered.

"But you don't know for sure," Vaisey said, smacking his lips after a deep draught of wine.

"My lord, I have a good plan how to find his little hideout. I know where his camp might be located, and we can set a fire in this area. In this case, Hood will die in the fire."

Vaisey scoffed. "Gizzy, are you really so stupid, or are you pretending? Or did your leper wife fail to please you in your large warm bed last night, so that you are unable to think at all before she gives you another kiss?" he mocked. "Sherwood is a royal hunting forest, and we cannot burn it, you fool! Prince John will have our heads on spikes if we do this!"

Guy averted his eyes. He didn't have any plan how to detect the outlaws' camp, and he simply blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. The sheriff's abusive treatment of him was like a deadly poison slowly dissolving in his veins. "I am sorry, milord," he said simply.

The sheriff drummed his fingers against the table. "Gisborne, you must find Hood. If he is not here, you must investigate Hood's whereabouts and learn why he left Sherwood."

"I will make a new trap for him," Guy mumbled obediently.

"You are better not to fail again. Prince John is getting nervous that Hood is still running free in the woods, ruining his plans to kill King Richard," Vaisey said as he leaned forward and looked into Guy's eyes. "Otherwise, I will hold you accountable for the failure, Gisborne." He smiled unpleasantly, his eyes glistening and his cheeks red with anger. "The lands you currently own, Robin of Locksley's former lands, may be forfeited. I may replace you with someone else if you disappoint me."

A sense of dread began to build in Guy as he imagined what their failure to capture Hood could mean for him. But what could he do if Hood and his small band had vanished like shadows, as if they had sunk into the earth? Steeling himself against fear, he solemnly nodded. The sheriff's falsely sweet smile disgusted him, but he feared to lose everything he had achieved during the last years, so he didn't dare object. Vaisey was the only man who could give him power. "I will do what I can."

Vaisey looked wistfully past Guy, as if searching for something in the air around them. “Guy, do you remember the day when we met in Rouen? I remember everything, even the weather.”

“I do remember this.” There were many reasons why Guy would never forget that unfortunate day. He hated that day; he hated the events that followed their meeting even more.

Vaisey smiled nostalgically. “It was a wonderful spring day,” he continued in a soft voice. “Gisborne, you were the best knight on that tournament in Rouen. Your former master was a worse warrior than you.” He smiled admiringly. “I was fascinated how you fought with your rivals – you were competent, strong, and aggressive, and I liked that brutality in you. What a great day it was!”

“Yes, my lord.” Gisborne’s reply was automatic.

Vaisey’s expression became somewhat languishing. “Gisborne, when I saw you, I immediately realized that you were the man I was looking for so long – my protégé and my pupil, almost my son.” He chuckled. “I knew that you were an outstanding swordsman. I saw in you a potential to become greater in the art of killing than I had ever been.”

“Thank you for your praise,” Guy replied humbly.

“Yet, Gisborne, Robin Hood is a better swordsman than you,” the sheriff spilled salt on the wounds of Guy’s bleeding heart. “I am sorry, Gizzy, but it is true.”

Guy felt rage coursing through him. “Hood fought in the Holy Land. I never went to war.”                                

“But you killed many people, and you have enough experience in killing,” Vaisey’s booming voice came. “Have the courage to acknowledge that Hood’s swordplay is really fabulous.” He laughed. “When Robin fought with my men near the cave and on the Great North Road, I was fascinated.”

“He is a formidable fighter,” Guy acknowledged, albeit reluctantly.

The sheriff sneered. “Hood is a fool. He has become a killer, but he uses his talents in an unprofitable and foolish way.” He let out a breath. “Very few people, for example, King Richard and his beloved knights Robert de Beaumont and Robin of Locksley, can fight so well.” He smiled. “Gizzy, don’t be offended. You are an outstanding swordsman as compared to an average knight, and you know that I value you very highly.”

“Milord, you know better than me. I cannot judge.” Gisborne ran his eyes along the corridor and fixed them at the window, looking at the winter twilight.

The sheriff’s face changed into an ugly grimace; wistfulness was gone. “But I don’t like that your marriage to this… leper has changed you so much, Gisborne. Has your pretty leper wife made you absolutely spineless?” He shook his head in disappointment. “You are not yourself, Gizzy. I hope that your… bloodthirsty spirits will return soon, my boy.”

“My lord, I haven’t changed at all,” Guy protested.

“Perhaps it is the effect of your honeymoon, Gisborne. Although I was never married, I can imagine how good it seems to be married: you have a wife who sleeps in your bed, runs your household, gives you some sweet berries at night, and breeds your children like a horse.” A sigh followed. “Being married is pleasant, I believe, but being in love and being rejected – that’s really hard. It sucks.”

Guy felt as if the sheriff had just punched him in the face. He dropped his gaze, surprised and suddenly embarrassed that Vaisey had guessed the reason of his disappointment – Marian’s rejection of him. But he was mistaken, though he couldn’t know about that: his master was speaking of himself being in love and having all his dreams crushed. “Perhaps,” he whispered. 

Vaisey smiled maliciously. “But sweet times are over, Gisborne.” A rueful smile curved his lips. “Don’t let this leper wrap you around her finger. You are a man and you decide what she must do. Marriage is like a relation between a commander and a soldier: you command and she must obey.”

“We are content in our marriage, my lord.”

The sheriff looked at him very attentively, then cracked with a laugh. “Gizzy, you are already captured by that little leper Marian. I warned you to be careful with lepers. Lepers have fickle nature. When lepers and love are gone, power and wealth remain. Don’t forget my lessons.”

Guy gave a nod. “I will always remember all your lessons, especially those you gave me when I started serving you,” he said in a controlled voice.

“Oh, my boy, those lessons made you a man you are now.”

“These lessons were invaluable.”

Vaisey smiled smugly. “Of course, my boy, you owe me too much. I am _your almost father_.” He regarded his henchman with a paternal smile. “I made a strong man out of you, Gizzy – a real man who doesn’t fear to rob, kill, and do everything at my order. If you didn’t meet me, you would have remained a whimpering ninny and a tasteless lettuce. You are nothing without me.”

Guy let out a sigh of resignation, for he had long lost hope that the sheriff would stop treating him like a piece of dirt. “Yes, my lord,” he muttered. But his master was right that he owed him: if he hadn’t been hired by the sheriff, his lands would have never been restored, even more than the Gisbornes had once owned. But, while that was true, it didn’t give Vaisey a right to revile him.

The sheriff sneered. “Gisborne, should I take your brevity as an acknowledgment that I raised you as my pupil and you understand that you would have achieved nothing without me?” He smiled with that odious, vile smile that had knocked the living daylights out of Guy on the day of their meeting in Rouen. “Or what is that, my boy?” He broke into laughter. “Or are you silent like a little brat who is going to spend a bunch of time playing with a lovely toy without saying anything in gratitude?”

“I am very grateful, milord,” Guy said, breathing hard. He gazed away, not wanting to see the sheriff’s sneering face. “I know that I wouldn’t have had Locksley in my possession without you.”

“This is very good, Gizzy! Very, very well!” the older man shouted. “You are grateful and you will continue serving me well. Then I won’t treat you as a kid who is going to die a bunch of times.” He laughed, and it was a wild, crazy laugh. “Ha! We are forever together, my boy!”

“Yes,” Guy breathed the word, hating its sound. The voice in the back of his head was screaming: “One day, I will murder you, you stinking piece of trash.”

The sheriff's lips curved into a vitriolic grin. “Now a warning, Gizzy! I no longer want to have by my side a buffoon of a man who seems more like a cheap clown than my loyal henchman.” He swung his head around to look at the cage with his birds. “ _My birds and I want my old Guy back_. We love you too much to lose you to the leper who, I fear, will bring only decease in your life if you fail to control her.”

Guy’s hand went to the hilt of his sword but froze in the air. “I will remember your advice.”

”So,” the sheriff said, staring at his birds, “when will I have my Guy back?”

“I am ready to carry out any command you wish, milord.”

Vaisey turned his gaze at Guy. Gisborne felt his mouth pop open in surprise as he saw the shifting colors in the sheriff’s eyes fading from a dark gray to almost black. The change in the eye color meant that the sheriff was angry, and Guy shuddered in fear mingled with anger at himself, for he himself was stunned that the older man had such a strong hold of him. Then something unidentifiable flickered in the depths of Vaisey’s orbs, and Guy almost believed he had seen a shred of affection there. Guy thought that his relationship with the sheriff was shrouded in the mists of mystery because there were too many things he didn’t understand about his master’s attitude towards him.

§§§

Guy and Allan returned to Locksley in the late afternoon. The village was almost dark, except for the burning torches on the front steps of the manor. There was nobody outside. Even in daytime there were usually few people in the village. It was normal for the people of Locksley not to spend much time outside since Vaisey had been appointed the sheriff and Gisborne had moved to Locksley Manor. Only the guards dressed in Gisborne's yellow and black colors waited for their master’s return.

Guy's heart skipped a beat at the thought that Marian was waiting for him in the manor. Since he had married her, he dreamt of returning to Locksley while being in the castle. He heard the villagers gossiping about his marriage, understanding that they had secretly hoped that one day she would be Robin's wife. The peasants despised him, hoping that Robin would one day be reinstated as their lord, but their sentiments were nothing new for Guy and he didn't care what they thought of his marriage.

Allan excused himself and headed to the servants’ quarters. Thornton, Robin's old servant, approached Guy and told him that Marian was in the dining room. With a smile on his face, Guy stalked through the parlor, hurrying to find Marian. He passed through the hall and entered the dining room. Numerous thick, tallow candles had been lit in the dining room. After he had spent the whole day in damp and chilly Sherwood, it was soothing to be in the warmth of the house.

Marian sat at the head of the table. She was dressed in a long bright blue dress, embroidered with silver thread. There was a lovely white headdress on her head, which flowed from a silver band around her forehead, above her lovely heart-shaped face. A coil of her long chestnut hair peeped out from under the headdress. Her eyes were innocent, like a cloudless summer sky, Guy thought.

Guy felt his breath taken away. Marian was the most radiant and the most beautiful woman he had ever met. He had slept with many women in his youth, but he had never loved any other woman before he met Marian. Marian was a sheer perfection, a personification of an angel. She was what he needed to feel complete in life and appease his demons that haunted him since the day of the fire.

"Guy," Marian greeted. She rose to her feet. "I was waiting for you."

Guy smiled at Marian, and his own heart gave a lurch. He took her hand, kissing it. "I missed you.”

"Where were you today, Guy?" she asked.

"I was on an important errand for the sheriff."

"Did you try to capture the outlaws?" Marian asked straightforwardly.

An exasperated Guy gave a slight nod. "I led a search party in Sherwood."

"Did you find someone?"

"No, we didn't," he replied shortly and sighed. "Hood and his gang disappeared. Maybe Hood lost his courage and now fears to attack us in the woods."

"Of course, if you surround yourself with so many guards."

He raised her chin and looked into her eyes. "Why are you so interested in the outlaws?"

Marian managed a tight smile. "I am your wife and I am interested in everything you do, Guy. You should be careful in the forest. It is dangerous to be in the woods so late." She didn't like that she again lied into Guy's face, but she didn't know what else to do. She had waited for Guy during the whole day, concerned that he had been so desperate to find and kill Robin. Since Allan had informed her about search parties in Sherwood, she knew neither sleep nor calm.

Guy smiled earnestly, pleased that she was worried about him. "I am not afraid of a small band of miserable outlaws. I will deal with them soon."

"Does the sheriff want you to kill them? What else does this man order you to do?" Marian's voice was quiet and firm. "Are you going to follow his orders no matter how despicable they are?"

Guy drew a whizzing breath and took a step back from her. He walked to a chair near the table and settled there, then folded his arms over his broad chest. "Marian, I pledged my loyalty to the sheriff many years ago, and I will never betray him." He sighed heavily. "I hate betrayal."

She flinched at his words. She had betrayed him so many times, and a sudden fear made her clutch the collar of her gown. The thought entered her mind – Guy could be a traitor to the crown. Robin had told her that Guy had tried to kill King Richard, but Marian still didn't want to believe in Robin's words, thinking that he had perhaps said that out of jealousy. She wanted to know the truth, thinking she might approach the subject in a roundabout way, but straightforwardness seemed a better option.

She came to Guy and stood rooted near the table. "Guy, I want to ask you one question."

He raised his eyes at her. "Go on."

"Did you try to kill the king and attack Hood in Acre around two years ago?" she asked directly.

"Hood told you about it again? Are you communicating with him?"

Marian looked into his eyes. "You are right that Hood told me about your attempt on the king’s life."

"I knew that." He suddenly rose to his feet and put his arms on Marian's shoulders. He glanced into her eyes, his gaze demanding and dangerous. "Are you consorting with Robin Hood?"

"I am not in league with Robin Hood and his gang, but I support him because he is the only man who opposes the tyranny of Vaisey and Prince John. I care about the poor who are overtaxed and starve to death," she parried, her gaze fearless. "If I had wanted to become an outlaw, I would have run away to the forest a long time ago, before Robin returned from the Crusades." He wasn’t aware that she had been the Nightwatchman, but she intended to tell him about that soon.

Guy furrowed his brows. "No, you are definitely not an outlaw."

He wrapped his hand around her slender waist, and she felt an electric shiver running down her spine. Their eyes met, the blazing blue fire of her sapphire orbs melting the coldness of his steel blue eyes. All of their contacts had always been like touches of ice and fire.

"No, I am not."

Guy stepped away from her and sank back into his chair. "When did he tell you that I had tried to kill the king? How did you meet him? Did he pursue you?" He bombarded Marian with questions. He wanted to know everything and now.

Marian emitted a heavy sigh. "When Robin Hood took you captive in the woods after the party in Locksley, Much came to Knighton and took me to the woods.”

“Why?”

“Much said that I was the only one who could stop Robin from killing you. We found you tied to the tree; you were unconscious and beaten."

He raised a brow. "And?"

Marian looked away for a moment to muster her courage. Then she veered her gaze to her husband. "Robin was furious. He didn't control himself," she elaborated. "Hood showed me the black wolf’s head tattoo on your forearm and the scar across it. He said that you, Guy, had attacked him in Acre, had left him for dead, and then run to the king’s tent. He said that he had saved King Richard before you had a chance to strike a fatal blow. He told me that he had injured your arm and had noticed your tattoo."

"So you came to him to the woods." He felt fury coursing through his veins.

"Guy, I went there only because Much asked me to come." She brushed a curl from her forehead. "He wanted to kill you. I couldn't let him take your life in cold blood."

He exhaled with annoyance and anger; his eyes shot daggers at her. "Robin? You are calling this outlaw by his first name?"

"Don't forget that Robin, Much, and I grew up together. Robin is a part of my past, and it cannot be changed," Marian explained calmly. "Whatever happened in the past, I am your wife."

Guy smiled, allayed with her words. "Right. You are my wife."

She gave a nod. "Yes."

"Marian, did you believe Hood?" He let out a sigh of frustration. He didn't know what to tell her and decided to follow his old strategy. "I once told you that you shouldn't listen to the rumors spread by people who know nothing."

"I didn't want to believe him, and I still doubt his words."

"But you don't believe me, Marian."

“I don’t know what to think, Guy. Robin Hood was in charge of the king's private guard when he served in the Holy Land. I have compelling reasons to think that he might be right." Marian tried to dismiss Robin's accusations, but she still wasn't sure that Guy was innocent. She decided that she wouldn't pressure Guy to talk: if she wanted to earn his trust and uncover his mysteries and secrets, she had to be cautious and patient; she also had to tell him her secrets.

"Believe whatever you want. Just keep it to yourself."

"You don't trust me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh, Guy,” Marian breathed.

“What?”

She didn’t know what to think, for Guy’s words were neither confession nor denial of his participation in regicide. But there was something in his eyes that told her he might be hiding something from her. And there was also an unknown spark of life there as well, as if he felt truly alive while looking at her. There was also a trace of guilt of in his eyes – guilt over something he wasn’t telling her, and she instantly guessed that it was something about his past.

“Guy, I want to know the truth about your life. I cannot understand why you are so loyal to Vaisey who always humiliates and insults you. He orders you to do abominable things, and you obey him. You have committed heinous crimes under Vaisey’s influence."

An expression of profound pain and sorrow descended on Guy's handsome features. She thought that it was his real face and that she finally saw a bleak glimpse of his tormented soul in his pain-filled eyes. Now she wanted to save him even more as his mask fell from his face.

"Marian, please don’t ask me such things.”

"No, I won't stop, Guy," she declared. "I want to help you. I know that there is a part of you that hates Vaisey. There is a part of your heart that doesn't like what you do for power and wealth.”

“I must do that because the sheriff will give me what I want – power.”

She was curious what sort of hold Vaisey seemed to have over Guy. “Guy, the sheriff is using you and is toying with you. You are his right-hand man, but it doesn't mean that you will keep your position forever. When Vaisey doesn't need you anymore and you outlive your usefulness, he will dispose of you by removing you from power. He may even kill you and–"

Guy interrupted her. "I don't want to talk about that. You don't understand what Vaisey means to me. You know nothing about my past."

Torn between disgust to his ignorance of her words and her passionate excitement to help him, Marian held his gaze and couldn’t take her eyes away. She was angry with him, but she was also hypnotized by his eyes, so entranced by them that it took her a moment before she realized she had made a step to him. She didn’t understand her own feelings, and a dozen emotions flitted across her face – confusion, fear, anger, and doubt. But then she remembered their conversation, and she was suddenly on the edge of losing control, angry with Guy that he didn’t want to listen to her.

Marian's anger burst forth in a flood of harsh words. " _Everything is a choice, Guy. Everything we do_ ,” she told him, her voice dark. “And nobody is responsible for your choices – only you decide what to do. Your past had an impact on your present, but you can always change yourself and dissociate yourself from the bitter experiences of the past." Her tone was stringent. "You shouldn't do what Vaisey orders you. Instead, you should stop the sheriff."

"You know nothing. I had to pledge my loyalty to Vaisey because he helped me survive and promised me to restore what I unjustly lost so many years ago." He trailed off and sighed. As the memories of the past flickered in his mind, he felt his heart pounding harder.

Her anger quickly burnt out, and she recovered her calmness. "Then tell me," she said calmly.

Guy ignored her plea. "Let's have a dinner."

Guy called Thornton and a servant girl to serve a dinner. Soon the table was covered with several silver platters. There was roasted meat, fish, eggs, and venison with aromatic herbs, a platter with cooked slices of veal, as well as platters with sweet cup custards and fresh bread. A decanter of red wine and two silver goblets were brought for the Gisborne spouses.

During the dinner, Marian avoided Guy's heated gaze, trying to enjoy the meal. Yet, his closeness awakened emotions in her heart and strange sensations in her body. Several times, she raised her eyes from the platter and caught Guy's heated gaze at her. She allowed herself a moment to study the smooth contours of his face, noting his beautifully shaped, steel blue eyes, his long dark lashes, his short, glossy, black hair. Her heart fluttered nervously as he turned his gaze at her and smiled charmingly, his eyes boring into hers.

From the corner of his eye, Guy watched Marian too. This time, his thoughts were not about her beauty but were centered on her undoubted interest in Robin Hood. He even had some disturbing thoughts about her betrayal, but he put them aside – there was no way Marian could betray Hood. She was his wife, and Hood was only her former betrothed who had broken her heart so long ago. She didn't care for Hood, he told himself. Yet, there was a loud voice in his head that whispered to him everything wasn't as simple as it seemed.

After the dinner, Guy accompanied Marian to her bedchamber. Every time he saw Marian's face and his eyes took in her slender curves, he wanted to press her to his chest and kiss her until she melted in his arms. Guy was experienced in the matters of physical love, and he knew that using force on her was not a way to win her heart. He desired her with every fibre of his being, but he wanted her to be with him willingly, not because it was her duty to share a bed with him.

Marian and Guy stood near the mahogany wooden door. Their eyes locked, and he smiled at her. His smile was warm and touched his eyes that darkened with desire. They were silent for a long, long time.

"Marian, my love, you are so beautiful," Guy murmured.

Marian dragged a breath. "Guy…" she whispered, blood pooling warmly to her cheeks.

Guy deliberately moved towards her, his large, dark figure overwhelming her. He took her hand and kissed it, his lips barely touching her skin. "Don't be afraid of me, Marian. I am not going to make you perform your wifely duties until you are ready." His voice was almost silken.

He rubbed his thumb along her jaw. His fingers slid down and encircled the base of her neck in a gentle clasp and then moved up, along her neck and her jaw line. He ran his finger over her cheekbone up, and then again down, outlining her lips. Then he took his finger away and smiled at her.

A slicing heat was racing through her. Her heart thumped, drumming against her rib cage. Everything around her was spinning out of her control, her entire life on the verge of either doom or blessing, thrust forward by the storm of emotions that seethed within her chest. There was a mysterious, grim, and lethal aura, captivating and paralyzing, around Guy, and it attracted her to him.

Marian would never forget his chilly, cruel gaze and the deadly hatred on his face on the day when he had come armed with the sheriff's guards to Knighton Hall, eager to make her suffer for leaving him at the altar, and had ordered his men to burn down her house. Then there was a day when she saw a different side of him – a deep, caring and loving, even heroic side when he was ready to die by her side defending Nottingham against Prince John’s army. Guy was a man of contrasts and contradictions, and these contrasts had a strange effect on her, an effect that Robin never had.

Marian missed Robin terribly. She missed his cheeky grin, his bright blue eyes twinkling with mischief, his insolent flirtations with her, and their hot arguments, and the way he mocked and teased her in his playful and infuriating way. A warm flush was spreading across her cheeks as she imagined his lips capturing hers and his slender fingers caressing the back of her neck as he kissed her. She missed the moments when she had bathed in an ocean of innate tenderness and lingering gentleness while being in his arms.

It was strange that she was so much torn between the two men, so different and so important to her. But Robin was her past and Guy was her present. She wondered whether she would be able to completely forget about Robin. When Guy was not close to her, she still remembered Robin.

"Thank you," Marian said simply.

"You are welcome, my love," Guy whispered.

Looking at her lovely face, Guy felt overwhelmed. He couldn’t believe that she was his and that all of his dreams and desires were coming true, but now he expected no less from life because she was tied to him by sacred bonds of matrimony. Driven by a feverish desire to reach out to her, he stepped forward and cupped her face. He moved his hand behind her neck and crushed his lips on hers, fiercely claiming them. He kissed her possessively and deeply. His mouth was firm and insistent, parting her lips so that he could taste all her sweetness.

Marian was trembling in his arms as overmastering sensations erupted throughout her body. Robin had kissed her before many times, but it had been nothing like this. Guy’s lips met hers with a burning, devastating intensity, though they were smooth and soft, too. Guy was kissing her as if he were sucking the life out of her, as if she were breathing life into him. She curled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, and his strong, warm hands held her tightly, his lips moving from hers to her earlobe, and then to her neck. She knew she should put some space between them, but she couldn't.

Robin had rarely kissed her with such vigor and passion. His kisses were almost always tender and sweet, even during their first intimate encounter in the woods when Robin had taken her virtue. Marian wondered whether Robin had controlled his passion in order not to scare her. Perhaps, Robin was a less passionate man than Guy was, she thought, but then she banished that ridiculous thought from her head. Robin loved her and he had been mad with desire when they had been together in the woods, though he had been extremely delicate and immensely tender. Marian didn't have much experience in lovemaking, but she thought that her kisses with Robin had to be different from those with Guy because lovemaking must be different with different men.

An already aroused Guy stopped kissing her abruptly. Smiling at her, he untangled her hands from his hair and slowly drew back, looking into her eyes and enjoying the effect he had on her. Then he pulled her firmly against his chest and his arms encircled her waist, as if trapping her to prevent her from running away.

Marian was perplexed by the exotic feelings that coursed through her. She felt dizzy from pleasure. Her face flushed. She liked to be kissed by him. She was curious how it would be to feel his strong arms roaming over her body and caressing her. Sooner or later she would become his, and a part of her craved for that, even though she hated herself for feeling so. She could only hope that she would be able to feign her virginity, if possible, or that Guy would ignore that. She wanted and dreaded to be in the same bed with him. Her relationship with Guy didn’t imply that no harm would ever befall her while she was close to him, but she felt an enormous drive and dark satisfaction from that.

“It was the most beautiful moment in my life,” Guy whispered, his voice hushed and soft. He was trying to control his growing desire.

Marian began to understand the implications of what had just transpired between them. He would want to consummate their marriage tonight, she mused. Panic hit her in her gut, and she tried to smother the building sense of anxiety inside her. “Don’t be ridiculous, Guy,” she admonished. “You surely had more beautiful moments than this.” She regretted that she was so rude, but she had to break the spell and forewarn him from asking her to stay in her bedroom.

“Very few, Marian,” he replied in a dispirited way, in a dispassionate voice.

She shut her eyes for a moment. His low, rough words sent thrills through her spine. “Guy, I am not ready yet,” she said in a slightly trembling voice. “I told you that I need more time.”

Guy let out a laugh. "Maybe, Marian. You must be tired.” His voice was shaking slightly, for he saw that she didn’t want him near her, and he tried to hide the hurt that her rejection caused him.

A faint smile was on her lips. "Guy, you have a noble heart under the façade of steel and leather."

“Now go to bed." He kissed her hand again and opened the door for her, showing her to go inside.

"Goodnight, Guy." Marian smiled shyly and closed the door.

As Marian closed the door, she felt that she couldn't stand on her feet. She was lightheaded and dizzy. Her knees were trembling as she made her way to the bed and sat on the edge. She swallowed hard, almost painfully, and drew a deep breath. Everything in her world sparkled and glistened, but her past was casting sombrous shadows across her heart filled with anguish because she wasn't with Robin.

Marian blinked open sleepy eyes. She needed to sleep a little bit. She didn't sleep well for so long, since the day of the siege, and exhaustion was gradually catching up with her. She lay back on the bed and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that she would have at least one peaceful night tonight.

§§§

Guy continued leading search raids in Sherwood Forest. Vaisey insisted that Guy and the guards must make search parties twice per day. However, all attempts to find Hood were useless. Vaisey became more impatient and angrier because it came to his ears that the people in the shire laughed at him and made a jest of his inability to capture the bold outlaw. The sheriff heard from his spies that the villagers still admired Robin Hood, the savior of Nottingham, and some of them even dared question his mental abilities.

The news was extremely frustrating for Vaisey, and he ordered Guy to bring him ten villagers, three of them from Locksley, planning to execute them on a charge of high treason. He hoped to swindle Robin and lure him out of the forest once the outlaws heard about the planned executions. The sheriff ordered to have five of the villagers hanged, drawn, and quartered, the rest of them hanged. The people of Nottingham were shocked with Vaisey’s desire to commit this atrocity.

The October morning was crisp, hazy, and a little chilly. Guy barked commands to his men to fetch the prisoners to the gallows and walked to the dungeons, and the guards followed him. Guy's heart skipped a beat: the women were frightened and begged for mercy, the children cried and shuddered in fear, while men were sullen and only glowered back at their jailers without uttering a word. The villagers were taken from the cells and escorted by the guards to the central courtyard.

Marian and Guy stood on the front steps of the castle, looking at the crowd of people and waiting for the bloody execution with bated breath.

Marian bent her head closer to Guy. “Does the sheriff seriously want to punish these villagers?”

Guy nodded. “Of course.”

She frowned. “Is it a plan to capture Robin Hood?”

Not even trying to hide a twinkle in his eyes, Guy smiled. "The sheriff has a crafty mind. He knows Hood’s weaknesses and uses them against him.”

“Then these people are innocent.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She chuckled. “If Hood comes here, he will take be cautious. He won’t be killed and will save the villages.”

“Why do you think so?”

Marian lowered her eyes. “Well, the sheriff hasn’t caught Hood yet.”

"Shy, Marian?" Guy asked softly, his breath brushing against her cheek.

She jerked her head up. "Of course not!" she maintained stoutly, sending him a freezing glare.

“I am pleased that you are not shy," Guy replied lightly. "If Hood comes, there will be the bloodbath here. You will probably have to watch." A rueful gleam appeared in his eyes. "Hood must die for his crimes. I should have killed him like a dog a long time ago."

Marian noticed the fortifications in the central square and the heavy presence of guards with crossbows lining the walkways on each side of the square. They clearly wanted to capture Robin if he tried to save the prisoners. She counted at least fifty guards in the courtyard.

“The sheriff is so afraid of Robin Hood and his gang that he needs so many guards?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.

Guy uttered a snort and squared his shoulders. His teeth were tightly clenched together, and his cold countenance was marred by a scowling frown. His blue eyes were hard and angry and even frightful before turning blank. Even his carefully brushed black locks seemed to bristle with anger. “Several months ago, Hood and the outlaws killed more than forty guards in the forest,” he informed. “They were the sheriff’s guards and my men. Hood was bloodthirsty and killed mercilessly.” He didn’t tell her that Robin had overpowered him in a fight and had nearly killed him then.

“When did that happen?”

“In several weeks after our wedding.”

“I didn’t know.”

Guy laughed cynically. “Oh, of course, you didn’t know!”

“Why?”

“The sheriff forbade everyone from talking about that.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Such bloody battles happened twice after Hood’s return from the Crusade. In both cases, Hood and his gang killed around forty guards in one battle,” Guy murmured, a sardonic grin twisting his lips. “Hood fought like a madman, as if he wanted to drink the blood of his victims; he was very angry and bloodthirsty. It is unfair that he was unscratched. Where was  _Hood’s humanity then_?”

“Oh.” She realized when the first bloody battle had taken place. She was astonished to get the news, but she didn’t blame Robin for killing many men when she had died in the cave because he had been protecting her then. “How could Hood kill so many guards?”

“Hood fought in the Holy Land. He brought a piece of the Crusade with himself – he remained a Crusader in his mind,” Guy explained. “I understand that you cannot believe that the hero can kill so easily. Hood is a damned hypocrite who kills in spite of professing that he doesn’t kill.”

“Maybe you attacked the outlaws. They had to kill to survive.”

"That’s true," Guy agreed, nodding his head. "It was one of the sheriff’s plans to capture Hood. The outlaws were cornered on the Great North Road.” He smirked. “Hood was cornered, but does that really matter? He killed to save himself and his outlaws, but he still killed. He slaughtered those guards like a bloodthirsty soldier, in the same way as he had killed the Saracens in the Holy Land.”

Marian glanced away. She could understand why Robin had killed the guards near a cave, although she hadn’t liked what he had done then; but it appeared that it had happened again, and he hadn’t been defending her then. She had never been disappointed in Robin’s actions, but now she admitted that she pitied the guards whom Robin had murdered in self-defense; she understood the motives of the outlaws, but she didn’t approve of what they had done. For the first time, she saw a conflict between Robin’s honorable intention to fight for justice and the costs of the methods he used to achieve that.

“Hood committed even a worse crime. He killed those guards in peaceful England, not in Acre,” Guy accused. “He doesn’t really care that those guards only served the sheriff and me, that those men also had families and children whom supposedly defends and saves from the likes of the sheriff and me.”

"England is peaceful?" she asked reproachfully. “Do you really think so?” She turned away from Guy and heard only his cynical muffled laugh.

Her mind in a whirl, Marian watched the sheriff descending the steps with a slow, pompous gait. Vaisey paused on the front steps, looking at a sea of the frightened, gloomy faces. A pleased grin breaking the serious expression on his face, he regarded the prisoners with a smugness that caused a quick flutter of disgust deep in Marian’s stomach.

"My precious people, today we have gathered here to punish traitors, blah-di-blah-di-blah," Sheriff Vaisey began; he raised his hand and pointed at the prisoners, miserable and trembling in fear. "These people were helping Robin Hood and his band. By association with the outlaws, they became outlaws themselves and are guilty of high treason against our gracious and brave King Richard who is currently fighting with the infidels in the Holy Land."

Guy stood at the sheriff's right hand, Marian and Allan near him. Marian did her best to hide her horror and disgust, putting on her face an impassive, almost demure expression, playing the role of Guy's dutiful wife. She had never hated Vaisey as much as she hated him now, that monster who took pleasure in watching how people writhed in pain and agony. Allan also struggled to conceal his horror, not looking at the gallows and several executioners with sharp daggers in their hands.

Marian couldn’t take it anymore. “Guy, please–” She was cut off by Guy’s sharp elbow jabbing her in the side.

“Hush, Marian!” Guy hissed, looking around, a fake smile on his face.

"We didn't help Robin Hood rob the nobles! We never collaborated with him and his gang!" the prisoners lamented, their faces as white as death itself.

"We didn't see Hood in the last two months," an old man from the crowd declared.

“Lies! Wretched lies!” Vaisey shouted, his eyes full of malice. "These prisoners are criminals! Many times, they helped Robin Hood and the Nightwatchman escape justice. Everyone who consorts with the outlaws works out of the legal system and, thus, is against the King of England. Robin Hood and his accomplices despise and break the king's laws. Even taking donations from Robin Hood's gang and the Nightwatchman is punishable by death."

There was a sudden, grim silence as the sheriff observed the frightened prisoners.

“Good people of Nottingham, I want justice and order in our town. The world must be cleared of Robin Hood and the likes of him.” Vaisey’s voice rose higher, booming like a drumbeat. "Today justice will be served. The execution of these people is just the first example of what would happen to those who would dare break the law and go against their sheriff's word."

The deep, lugubrious whispers rumbled through the chilly air. The primitive, nameless fear was written on the people's faces. Everyone was shocked as they realized that the sheriff planned not a simple hanging, but brutal hanging, drawing, and quartering.

Everyone in the crowd was oohing and ahing in shock. Vaisey had never executed anyone in this brutal way before, and he wondered why he had been  _quite soft_  for so long. This execution was a professional triumph for Vaisey as he could finally satiate his bloodlust, his sadistic hunger for death.

"My good lord, we beseech you to at least change the method of execution for these people," someone in the crowd spoke. "There are children among the condemned prisoners."

Vaisey's posture was casual, his arms folded across his chest, a sneering expression on his face. "La di da di da! This is good what we are doing today! We are making an example of executing the traitors who are working with the treacherous villain and knave Robin Hood. I gave you a chance to avoid persecution and punishment when I more than doubled the price on Hood's head, but no one went on this service for your sheriff, for your fear of failing to find Hood or of returning with broken bones or an arrow in a back was too great. All men from Nottingham are cowards who fear to meet face-to-face with the band of the unwashed outlaws. Now it is time to pay for cowardice."

Marian's gaze darted between the sheriff and Guy, as if she had been uncertain which man posed the greater threat to the prisoners. No, Guy wasn't as cruel as the sheriff was: unlike Vaisey, he couldn't enjoy the children's deaths. She wished to appeal to her husband to stop the nightmare. She couldn't just stand and watch the barbaric execution of the innocents.

Marian bent her head to Guy and murmured into his ear, "Guy, you must do something. You know that these people are innocent." Her tone was cool and calm, although she felt anger simmering in her blood, born of her fear and disgust with the sheriff. "There are children there. This is inhuman."

"This is Hood's fault, Marian. They took the gang's donations and betrayed the sheriff. Now they must pay," Guy stated uncompromisingly.

"These people are innocent," Marian repeated. "Should we do nothing?"

He stared back at her, his expression astonished. “You are sending mixed messages, Marian. Are you a new Robin Hood?" he said with a sneer after a pause.

She shook her head vigorously. "No, no. But I cannot watch the children die."

Guy scoffed contemptuously. "And where is Hood now? Is he playing with his bow in the woods? This pathetic man is not as caring about his villagers as I thought."

Marian flinched at his words. She knew that Robin cared about the people, but he wasn't there, which meant that something had happened to him. "There are children among them," she remarked, her eyes fixing on the prisoners.

Guy gave her a sharp look. "What?"

"Guy, I beg you to persuade the sheriff to spare at least the children, if we cannot save their parents." She took his hand in hers, and her fingers entwined with his. "Save them for you, for me, for us."

Guy swept his eyes over the crowd, his gaze fixing at the terrified faces of the children who were being led to the gallows. The children stumbled, and the guards, scoffing at them, dragged them to the scaffold. His heart turned heavy as he imagined children in the noose. He was impatient to be gone from there, to escape in order not to watch the atrocity. He couldn't let that happen. His father and mother would not have been proud of him if he had allowed Vaisey to have the children murdered.

Guy swung his gaze to Vaisey. "My lord, I recommend that you stop the execution before you regret your actions." Anger rose inside his chest and suffocated him, but he forced himself to look calm. "If you execute these children, the people will think that Robin Hood is better and more human than you. You will cement his image of a savior forever. The people will value his humanity more; they will love and adore him even more. Be merciful at least to the children."

Marian and Allan watched Guy's conversation with Vaisey, holding their breaths. They both didn't expect that Guy would voice his protest, especially right before the execution. Marian smiled at Guy in gratitude, proud of him and sure that there was much goodness in his frozen heart.

"Gisborne,  _humanity is a great weakness_ ," the sheriff growled, with a hint of disappointment mingled with amusement. He clapped Guy on the shoulder, then wrapped his arm round Guy's back and leaned closer. "Did our leper friend wash out of your head everything I taught you in Normandy?"

"My wife has a name," Gisborne responded instantly.

Marian smiled proudly. Allan shook his head in respect.

Guy fumed inwardly. He hated that the sheriff referred to Marian in such a disrespectful manner. Amazingly, it was the first time when Guy voiced his displeasure as to the sheriff’s treatment of Marian, and he was stunned with his own boldness and determination. He had always been torn between the necessity to be respectful towards the sheriff and his desire to defend Marian. Today, his loyalty to Marian was stronger than his loyalty to the sheriff, but only today.

Vaisey stepped aside from Guy. He still looked disappointed, but in a moment he practically cackled with laughter. "Gisborne, you are a spineless idiot ensnared with a little leper’s charms. Watch your back, for she may backstab and betray you when you don't expect that. Don't come to me for help and consolation, then. Lepers are dangerous, Gizzy."

Guy ignored Vaisey's words. "With all due respect, I still think that these adults should be hanged and the children spared," he said steadily.

Vaisey smiled. "Gisborne, don’t say that you offer to have a nice little… philosophical talk here and now!” His eyes glistened. “What game are you playing, my boy?"

Guy heaved a great sigh, thinking that it wasn't going to be easy, but he knew what to say to sway the sheriff from his decision to kill the villagers. "My lord, Robin Hood is not here, and I doubt he will come. You won’t catch him today, but the people–" He broke off suddenly.

"What?" Vaisey arched a brow.

"The people will only hate you more," Guy finished.

The sheriff grimaced. "Gisborne, I have no time for your games. If you have no guts to say what you want, then so be it. Then let me at least enjoy the execution if I cannot capture Robin Hood."

Ignoring Vaisey's insult, Guy smiled slightly. "I think you are better to change your plans. We shouldn't execute these people. We should use Hood's absence to dishonor him and blacken his name. Hood is not here – he abandoned his people. This is our chance."

Vaisey smiled. "If I execute them, they will become martyrs. But if I pardon them, then everybody will love Robin Hood less."

Guy nodded slightly. "Yes, my lord. If you spare at least the children's lives, you will win this round with Hood. You will create a contrast between his negligence and cowardice to save his people from brutal death and your merciful and all-forgiving nature."

“If I forgive them, they will view me as their merciful lord,” the sheriff speculated.

“Yes, that’s right, milord,” Guy confirmed.

Vaisey stared at Guy in a dead silence, his lips curved in a smug style. Marian instinctively recoiled from Vaisey, and Guy averted his gaze, unable to withstand the intensity of the sheriff’s gaze.

The sheriff eyed Guy suspiciously. There was no doubt in his mind that Guy was doing that for Marian, and that irritated Vaisey. He hated Marian, but he also needed Guy. Besides, he was genuinely fond of Guy, even though he humiliated him every day; he had his own reasons for torturing Guy with constant insults. Only his fondness made him tolerate Guy’s marriage to Marian at least for a while. Of course, if the marriage could make his henchman too meek, Vaisey could eliminate Marian from Guy’s life.

Vaisey turned to face the crowd, his dark eyes blazing with demonic fire, his face lighting up with a bright smile. "Gizzy, you are an imbecile who failed to capture Hood multiple times, but today you have impressed me. I do like this idea. I admit that it may work."

"Certainly." Guy looked straight into Vaisey's eyes, so full of wickedness. For an instant, the sheriff's ghoulish, sneering face with a gray beard, short grizzled hair, and a jewel-studded tooth, with his typical nefarious smile, was almost repugnant. Seeing Vaisey's face was worse than Hood's arrogant face with a cheeky, devil-may-care grin. Something in the sheriff's eyes made Guy tremble, filling him with nearly mortal terror, but he steeled himself against his weakness.

Vaisey turned to face the executioners who had just finished preparing the prisoners for hanging. "Stop the execution! Stop the execution!" He shouted. "Release the prisoners!"

Everyone in the crowd looked at the sheriff incredulously. It was the last thing which they expected to ever hear from Vaisey who loved blood and killed so many townsfolk since he had taken Sir Edward Fitzwalter's office almost five years ago.

The sheriff outstretched his arms; he loved theatrical actions and always did many things just for an effect on the audience and for his own pleasure. "I, Lord Peter Vaisey, the Sheriff of Nottingham by the grace of God and by Prince John's will, hereby proclaim that I spare the unworthy lives of these criminals," he said in a booming voice, proudly and slowly, giving the townsfolk enough time to digest the message. "Today I am pardoning you for all your crimes, but this is the last time when I am so benevolent and forgiving.”

"Thank you, our lord sheriff!" one of the prisoners cried out, blessing himself with a cross.

"Thank you, Lord Vaisey!" another man screamed.

Vaisey’s face transformed into harshness. “But will I also pardon you? A clue: no! If someone takes a donation from Robin Hood and his gang at least once, there will be no mercy. Remember this."

“Thank you, Lord Vaisey!”

“Our children are safe!” one of the released female prisoners screamed.

Inspired by his new plan to win the battle with Hood, Vaisey laughed. "Where is your hero Robin Hood now?” He laughed with delight. “What? You are so silent, like a grave! No answer!" He was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the crowd. "I have the answer – Hood is not here! He doesn't care about you! He is scared to come here! Does anyone still fancy your hero?"

The people shared bewildered glances. The villagers of Locksley shook their heads in uncertainty, but no cheerful cries of approval followed; the people preferred to keep their thoughts to themselves. No one believed that Robin Hood could have deserted them.

Marian and Allan cringed at the sheriff's words. They exchanged anxious glances, the worry about Robin and the gang obvious in their eyes. A latent liar and a manipulative woman, they were skillful at masking their true emotions, and that was a precious quality that had allowed them to live a double life for so long. There was no way the gang could miss the execution of the innocent villagers, the children in particular. Marian and Allan were worried beyond measure about the outlaws.

Guy felt relief washing over him as he saw the joyful faces of the children and of the parents as the pardoned prisoners were released and allowed to leave the courtyard. The people cheered aloud, thanking the sheriff for his benevolence. They also whispered where Robin Hood was and why he didn't come to save his people. Some villagers believed that Robin Hood was dead.

"Thank you, Guy," Marian murmured into his ear, leaning to him. "I am so proud of you." There were undeniable joy and pride in her voice.

Guy looked directly into her eyes, with some nervousness and great intensity. His steel blue eyes turned dark blue with some grey pigmentation, an undeniable announcement of a raging storm of emotions in him. For a moment, Marian didn't see a henchman working for the cruel sheriff but a free man with his own passions and aspirations. There were so many untold secrets in his eyes, and she hankered to unearth his mystery and dark secrets.

Guy's eyes darkened with all-consuming passion. He gently squeezed her hand. "Marian, I will try to make you proud," he said with a large smile.

A taunting smile crept onto Vaisey's face as he watched Guy and Marian. "Gisborne! Enough pleasantries and stupidities in my presence! You are not yourself today!" He laughed. "You are a little cleverer and also meeker. A strange combination, my dear boy."

Guy gave a frustrated sigh. "I am alright, my lord."

The sheriff chuckled and patted Guy's shoulder. "Gizzy, I am giving you the rest of the day off. I am kind today, but only today. Go to your little leper wife." He grabbed Gisborne's shoulders and smiled into his face. "I know you need this leper. Take her to bed and enjoy. But don’t become weak."

"I am not weak," Guy asserted, his eyes locked with Vaisey's.

"I told you that today I am satisfied, Gisborne. But you may become weak," the sheriff said seriously. "And don’t forget that I won’t tolerate divided loyalties. You are loyal to me in the first place."

"I never meant that. Forgive me." Guy didn't look at his master, his eyes dancing around, with a hint of anger and resentment hidden deep inside.

Vaisey cursed. "Gisborne, you must look at me when I talk to you, you idiot." He glanced at Marian and snickered; then he turned his gaze back to his master-at-arms. "Lepers, Gisborne, lepers; remember this." He patted Guy's shoulder, like he would have patted his lapdog, and then stalked over to the castle.

Guy stared after the sheriff for a while, a lump settling in his throat, and he swallowed hard. For just a second, he wished to never see Vaisey again.

"Allan, you may go," Guy dismissed the younger man, wishing to be alone with Marian.

"Yeah, if you excuse me," Allan said as he began moving backwards.

"Leave," Guy said hastily.

"A moment," Allan said, hurrying to be out of Guy's sight.

As Marian and Guy remained alone on the front steps of the castle, surrounded only by five guards, Guy stepped to Marian and his arms went about her waist. She clung to him, her cheek coming into contact with the soft leather covering his muscular body. She lifted her eyes to him and reached out for him with a tentative hand, lightly touching his cheek with her palm.

She smiled, her eyes alight with admiration. "Thank you, Guy. This was–"

He interrupted her. "Shhh, Marian." He put a finger on her lips. "I want to warn you. I saved them for you and because… I didn't want the children to be executed just because the sheriff planned to capture Hood but the outlaw didn't appear."

She stepped back. "Vaisey is mad, you know that. You cannot allow him to kill innocent people."

"Shhh," he silenced her. "Listen to me. What I did today will never happen again. I cannot risk and enrage the sheriff. Don't count on me if you again want to save someone, even children. I am not your hero. I am not like Hood."Marian stared at him. "Guy, are you alright?"

"Hood didn't come to save his peasants today. It is the beginning of his downfall." Guy’s face lit up with a triumphant smile. "He disappeared, perished in the forest. Maybe he is already dead."

Marian lowered her head, hiding the pain revealed in her eyes. Her heart was pounding now so hard that it felt as if it might actually break free of her chest. She couldn't seem to catch her breath and braced her hands against her chest. Robin couldn't be dead. She wanted Robin to live. She felt as though she had descended into hell and the demons had captured her treacherous, adulterous soul.

She blinked. "Guy, why do you hate Hood so much?"

Guy immediately changed. He grimaced in disgust, and then his face became thunderous. "I don't wish to talk about Hood, Marian. It is not your deal.” His voice was menacing.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I am your wife. Your problems are my problems. There are hundreds of untold secrets in your eyes, and these secrets are tormenting you since your childhood. I want to help you, but I must know the truth."

He was deeply touched by her care. "Maybe I will tell you the truth, but later, not today, not now."

"Why not?" She sounded astonished.

"I cannot."

"Guy, I want to help you! I cannot stop asking you about your life!"

Guy looked at her for a long moment, thinking whether he was ready to talk about his eternal nemesis – Robin of Locksley and their conflict that was as old as the world itself. "The tale of my childhood is a painful one. If I were a good Christian, I would probably join a convent and become a monk, but I have nothing to offer God – only my empty, misspent life." He was breathing with difficulty, but went on. "I have deserved to bear all these bitter regrets and burdens, and maybe it is punishment for my sins."

A sigh escaped her lips, and she fixed her eyes at Guy with an undivided attention that was full of wisdom."We all have regrets and burdens, Guy. You must not blame anyone for your hardships and choices. If you were given this path, be strong and go ahead. Do a right thing and go ahead. If you want to redeem yourself, offer your good deeds as a sacrifice to God, and he will forgive you."

He half turned from her. "For the love of Heaven, Marian, do me a favor and stop lecturing."

“I only want to help you.”

"I don't give a damn what you want!" Guy threw over his shoulder, bluntly dismissing all further discussions. He turned around and strode towards the castle.

Marian didn’t follow Guy and still on the front steps. She was brooding over her marriage to Guy and her broken betrothal to Robin. She started comparing Robin and Guy. She was sure that both Robin and Guy fiercely loved her, but their love for her was so different.

Marian didn't like that Robin's deep affection for the king stood between them. There was something sublime in his adoration and love for the king she couldn't comprehend. She didn't know whom Robin loved more – the king, her, or both of them equally, and that displeased her a great deal. It occurred to her, for the first time, that Robin could probably choose the king even in the most critical situation when he had to choose whom to save. It was so odd to think of Robin in that way, she thought. She turned it over in her mind, and her failure to find the answer instilled more confusion into her mind, as well as a sinking feeling of loss and desolation.

Guy loved her and power, but she wanted to believe that he could love her more, for his love for her often seemed so overwhelming. She could see the wildfire of passion in his eyes, whereas she had probably never noticed the same in Robin's eyes. She suspected that if she had surrendered to Guy's passion, completely and wholeheartedly, she could drown in a sea of his love, and, surprisingly, she was afraid of that. Somehow she managed to soften Guy's cold heart when they were together.

Robin of Locksley was Marian's first love and her former betrothed, actually, twice betrothed. Her love for Robin always was  _a permanent, natural part of her essence_  and her everyday life. She couldn't be herself without his love! That love didn't disappear when Robin had left for the Holy Land, and their affection had rekindled and had become stronger after his return. She was always herself with Robin because he loved her for who she really was. Their love was an intense flame when they were together, whether they were bickering with or confessing their true feelings to one another, and their kisses were like a gentle stream caressing the rocks on its snaky path to the river. Their love was in their bones and their souls.

Marian and Robin often had hot arguments and quarrels. It was natural for them, and their eventual reconciliations were unavoidable. There was a tart taste of exasperation and anger in their arguments, but those squabbles were softened by the known outcome – they would pardon each other, Robin would give her his most charming smile or his trademark cheeky grin, she would smile back at him warmly, and together they would continue fighting for England, for King Richard, for the people, and for a chance to be together. Their lives were a constant fight, a good fight, but a fight nonetheless.

Marian believed that she knew Robin very well, but in the end, after hours of tantalizing musings, she had to acknowledge that she was wrong: she didn't know Robin as well as she wanted, for he always wore a mask and rarely showed  _his naked soul_  even to her. Marian didn't know Guy either, even though he was her husband, and she frequently didn't understand him. Guy was a mystery to her, and every time – even when they hadn’t been married yet – she tried to solve him it caused her more confusion and a little bit more pain because he had always pushed her away. Guy was a dangerous unknown that she must protect herself against, but she liked danger and taking risks.

Even though she realized that she didn’t know Robin well enough, Guy still remained more mysterious to her. That enigma drew her to him like a magnet, a vague and formidable force that she couldn’t escape from when she was near him. She knew very few things about his past as Guy always avoided talking about his childhood and early youth, and she was interested in what had made his heart frozen and had brought to the light only its wicked parts. Guy could become a better man, but something or someone had shaped his qualities and character – his cruelty, his hunger for power, and his outward coldness. Guy's personality intrigued her, and his dark handsomeness fascinated her.

It excited Marian that her interactions with Guy were not as predictable as those with Robin. There was a touch of danger in the air as they talked and looked at one another. Their conflicts and arguments, their mostly official talk, and even the rare moments of their sweet communication contained prickly and even perilous words, and she found herself electrified by danger in his presence, as if she were walking on the edge of a blade. When she was with Robin, her life seemed so benign and so safe, as if, as long as she was in his arms, nothing bad in the world could ever bring her harm. Guy was a source of danger that beckoned around every corner and lurked in the shadows, as if a calamity were embedded in his breath and in his movement. She treasured safety, but she also craved danger.

Marian was moved, to the deepest depths of her entire being, by the intensity and sincerity of Guy's bright gaze on the day of the siege as he had knelt to her and had offered her to marry, to steal at least that from death, as if that last thing were all he needed to die a repentant and free man. Guy had been in Nottingham with her while Robin had been away, fighting for his beloved king in the Holy Land. Guy did many bad things and had hurt her many times in the past, but he had also tried to protect her from the sheriff, risking his favor and even his own life.

Her situation was uncertain and dangerous, but she welcomed challenge. She just had to leave Robin in the past and find a common ground with Guy. Guy was her husband, but yet she was sill so distant from him both emotionally and physically.  _Robin was always ablaze; he was fire, like Marian herself_.  _With Guy, Marian was fire and he was ice, and she melted that ice_. Robin was light and Guy was darkness, and they were sworn enemies, fighting for ultimate victory like the powers of light and darkness battling across heaven at dusk. Yet, deep inside her heart, she felt that there was something that linked Robin and Guy, and she was itching to crack their impenetrable mysteries.

As her brain was working through the increasingly complex thoughts of Robin and Guy, Marian didn’t notice Allan walk towards her. Allan tugged at the sleeve of her gown, signaling her that it was time to go, and Marian nodded at him, giving him a smile. He offered her his hand and she took it. Then they headed to the castle to attend the Council of Nobles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we have some information about Robin and his friends. I have always been interested in Robin as a courtier, for he was a high-ranking nobleman and was close to the king, and he should have spent at least some time at the royal court. In the next several chapters, Robin Hood is going to spend some time at the court. He arrives in Acre only in chapter 7.
> 
> Guy and Marian are in the process of building their relationship. They are still not completely honest with one another, but they are making a certain progress. Don't expect that they will overcome their difficulties in two chapters – it won't happen. There is a long road ahead for them – confessions must be made and many dark mysteries must be unveiled.
> 
> Marian is still torn between Robin and Guy, but she is beginning to accept Guy. I don't think that Robin was an ideal match for Marian at least because Robin is a man of duty and England’s man through and through – he is a very difficult man for a relationship with any woman. I also don’t think that Guy is an ideal husband for Marian, and I doubt that they can have a happy life-long marriage, but in fiction an author can create alternate realities and explore various scenarios, provided that twists are logical and evolution of characters’ feelings is logical and flows naturally out of canon.
> 
> In the next chapter, there will be a lot of information about Guy and Robin's tragic past and the mysteries of their past. Guy and Robin’s back story is taken from the episode "Bad blood", but it is much more complicated as there are many things Guy and Robin don’t know about their past.


	5. The Golden Boy

**Chapter 5**

**The Golden Boy**

Everything was quiet at the Nottingham Castle; the tall windows reflected the sunset as crimson as the evening before. The guards walked around the castle and did their usual business; all of them tried not to run into the sheriff, whose temper caused them many troubles in the past weeks.

"Gisborne! Gisborne!" Vaisey shrilled, his raucous voice rising to the high vault of the spacious study room. "Where are you? How long do I have to wait for you, you blithering idiot?"

As soon as they head the sheriff's ill-tempered screams, Guy and Allan marched from the great hall towards the study room. As they stormed up the stairs and passed through several long corridors, they almost collided with two guards, swore an oath, and continued walking. They suspected that the sheriff would talk about their new plan of Robin Hood’s destruction. Yet, Vaisey was strangely quiet during the last days, but he was in a positive, elevated mood.

Guy and Allan entered the room and stood in front of the Sheriff of Nottingham. Vaisey was humming an unknown melody under his breath, staring at the cage with birds, absorbed in his musings, his mind devising a crafty plan and thinking about the new mission for Prince John.

Vaisey sat in a high back chair. He smiled as Guy and Allan entered. "Finally, you have come, oafs."

Guy bowed to Vaisey. "We are here, my lord."

"Of course, you are." Vaisey laughed. "Gisborne, you are my henchman, my dog that must be obedient and always slobbering, ready to act on my every whim. I ask from you only obedience." The older man beckoned the younger men to him. "Now come here. We have much to discuss. I have a task for you."

"I am at your service," Guy said, swallowing his humiliation and folding his arms on his chest.

Strangely alarmed, Allan bowed reluctantly; he loathed the sheriff so much that he was disgusted even with the necessity to bow to the man. "And so am I, milord."

"Well, I like our new plan of Hood’s destruction," Vaisey rapped out.

Guys smiled, pleased with the sheriff's praise. "My lord, we are meant to be in a partnership. We must do everything to weaken Hood by blackening his name and making the people stop loving him. If we failed to capture him, we can still weaken him and wait for a suitable moment to crush him down. When he is the most vulnerable, we will finally capture him."

"Blah-di-blah-di-blah! This is exactly what we will do. Hood vanished and abandoned his dirty peasants, and we will use it to our advantage," Vaisey's loud and grating voice resonated. "My last warning to the villagers will guarantee that they will be too frightened to take food and coins from Robin Hood's gang. I don't care whether the peasants starve and die. What is important is that Hood will have no chance to continue helping the people." He pursed his lips. "Given that we don't know what happened to the outlaws and where they are, we can seize an opportunity and tarnish Hood's image."

"Hood may already be dead," Guy supposed.

"Dreams, Gizzy, empty dreams," Vaisey croaked. "Robin Red Breast will come out of nowhere and set the heather on fire when we don't expect him to appear."

"We will be ready. We will capture and kill him. I will continue searching for the outlaws’ camp in the forest. Sooner or later I will find their nest," Guy said resolutely.

"Brace yourself for an important task, Gizzy. You and Allan will need a plenty of energy and much intelligence in the coming months." Vaisey lazily stretched his legs out before him. "You are going to work on two important missions. Firstly, we must undermine Robin Red Breast's reputation and then get rid of Hood and his annoying gang." He paused for an effect, wrinkling his eyebrows. "Do you know what else you will do?" He smiled. "A clue: no! You don't know, but I will tell you." He again paused and clapped his hands. "Prince John charged us with an important mission."

Guy furrowed his forehead. "Is it what I think, my lord?"

Allan stiffened, thinking that they would have to travel to the Holy Land and assassinate King Richard. He knew about the Black Knights and, in contrast to Marian, believed that Guy had tried to kill Richard at Vaisey's order. He wasn't sure that he would be able to go through regicide.

Vaisey's eyes twinkled with wickedness. "No, no, no. This time it is something different, my friends." He snapped a brisk salute to them, his gaze coming from Guy to Allan. "Our future king – Prince John – has finally found an effective method to subdue his beloved mother, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, and break her spirit. She has always loved Richard more than John, and it deeply saddens our future king. John was King Henry's favorite child, and the old king preferred to have John to Richard on the throne, but he couldn't name John his successor. Queen Eleanor has a heart of a lioness, like her warrior son Richard, and she will fight for his throne with all demons and angels on earth, in heaven, and in hell. She will gather any large army to suppress the rebellion against King Richard in England." He raised his voice. "The Queen Mother must be tamed! She must be controlled by Prince John!"

"And what do we have to do, my lord?" Gisborne was astonished.

Allan sighed heavily. "Yeah, it sounds interesting."

"Very interesting. It is all about power, ambitions, politics, and schemes," Vaisey said in a sing-song voice. "Prince John has a cunning mind and an expansive spy network. Recently, his spies at Queen Eleanor's court overheard the Queen Mother’s conversation with one of her most entrusted confidants." He paused for a moment, plotting frantically. "Now attention! Attention, please! The news is exclusive!"

"We are listening," Guy said.

Vaisey's lips lengthened into a smile. " _The Queen Mother was talking about her illegitimate son, the youngest of all her children, her golden boy,_ whose existence she had to hide starting from his birth. She said that she loved Richard and the boy most of all among all her offspring. She also said that she regretted that her golden boy was illegitimate and, thus, unable to inherit the throne.”

Guy and Allan gave Vaisey incredulous stares and stood there shaking in a menacing, deadly silence, staring at the sheriff who was smiling and staring back at them with narrowed eyes.

A queen could never have lovers because she could put the line of succession into jeopardy. And, despite Eleanor of Aquitaine's rich experience of having extramarital affairs as the wife of King Louis VII of France, it was outrageous that she had given birth to a son. The Plantagenets and the queen herself would have been disgraced if it had become public that the Queen of England had had a child out of wedlock. The queen's reputation can never be tarnished, and if she had a bastard, she had to keep his existence a secret.

Vaisey rubbed his hands together with glee. “What do you think, boys? Wonderful news, huh?”

Guy came to the desk and leaned his elbow on the edge. "It is incredible," he murmured, a touch of disbelief in his tone.

"Oh, my!" Allan shook his head.

Guy tossed his head, trying to fight off a feeling of unreality that had enveloped him. "But this secret son has no legal claim to the throne of England because he is not King Henry's bastard. He doesn't even have a claim to Duchy of Aquitaine. Why does the prince want to deal with him?"

Vaisey rose to his feet and walked to Guy. He glared into the eyes of his master-at-arms with irritation. "Gizzy, are you really so stupid or are you just playing a game? Do I have to explain everything to you, you dunderhead?" He grabbed Guy's shoulders. "Family life is definitely not for you. You have become more stupid and more reckless. You are as foolish as a donkey!" He stepped backwards.

Allan noticed a brief flicker of hatred in Guy's eyes. "Explain please, my lord sheriff," he said to diffuse the tension between them.

Vaisey seated himself in his chair. "Richard the Lionheart is the King of England, as well as Duke of Aquitaine and of Normandy, Count of Anjou, Maine, Poitou, Brittany, and a sovereign of other territories, none of which are English. All lands offered their men for the king's sacred mission to free Outremer from the infidels. Many Norman and Saxon knights went to the Holy Land, but Richard still has a strong support in Normandy and in Aquitaine; John doesn’t enjoy popularity in the south of the Angevin Empire, for the overwhelming majority of the Poitevin nobles are staunchly loyal to Richard.”

Guy nodded. “Queen Eleanor has become a political personage of the highest importance under the rule of King Richard. To Richard, her popularity in Aquitaine is most valuable.”

Vaisey sighed. “Richard himself has been enjoying great popularity in Aquitaine since he became the Duke of Aquitaine in 1172. He is worshiped as a hero in Aquitaine.”

“I have heard that everyone loves and cherishes the warrior king,” Allan intervened.

The sheriff shot Allan a murderous look. “I didn’t permit you to speak, you idiot.”

Allan lowered his eyes. “I am sorry if I displeased you, my lord.”

“This time, I will forgive you, my naughty boy,” the sheriff mocked.

“Thank you.” Allan’s voice sounded extremely humble.

Vaisey’s gaze turned pensive. “Almost all of the Poitevin lords supported Queen Eleanor and her three sons in the revolt against King Henry in 1173–1174. But King Henry raised a very expensive army of over twenty thousand mercenaries and defeated Eleanor and his own sons.” He laughed. “I remember very well how Prince Richard went to Henry's court in Poitiers and begged his father for forgiveness on his knees. A hypocrite through and through, Richard swore that he had repented of his wrongdoings and promised to cherish and serve King Henry well and loyally.”

Guy gave his master a long look. “How do you know so much, my lord?”

The sheriff laughed nastily. “Gizzy, my boy, I was in the great hall and watched Richard sink to his knees and weep at King Henry’s feet. Then Henry gave Richard the kiss of peace and permitted his son to rise from his knees.” He smirked. “At that time, I was a young courtier, and I often traveled between royal courts in London and in Aquitaine. I witnessed the whole scene of Richard’s reconciliation with his father. The mighty Lionheart looked so miserable back then!” He looked between Guy and Allan. “Later, the other two rebellious Plantagenet brothers – Henry the Young King and Geoffrey – joined him at court and sought reconciliation with their father too.”

Guy was amazed to learn such details about Vaisey’s past. He knew that Vaisey had worked for King Henry and then had started serving Prince John, but he knew nothing about the sheriff’s childhood and early youth, excluding that he was the landless knight who sought royal favor to advance himself and satisfy his ambitions; he had no idea that Vaisey had become a seasoned courtier years ago. He had learned about the existence of Lady Davina only after their arrival in Nottingham when she had once visited her younger brother before Robin’s return from the Holy Land.

Allan felt as if he were in a state of a sheer trance. He had never been involved in any politics before, and this conversation was unusual for him; he didn’t understand many things, but he listened and memorized.

Guy rubbed his cheek. “Later, Richard Plantagenet spent several years in Aquitaine, pacifying the barons that rebelled against his father.” His mouth twisted in disgust. “The heroic and good Richard mercilessly killed so many Poitevin lords, destroyed so many fortified castles in Aquitaine, and punished his own loyal vassals so severely in the process of dealing with the former rebels that he acquired the nickname _‘Richard the Lionheart’_. It tells everything about the man’s true personality."

“How own vassals?” Allan was confused. He had the different understanding of King Richard after he had listened to Robin’s tales about the heroic king. Now he received the opposite information.

Guy broke into a contemptuous laugh; he despised Richard for his actions in the aftermath of the revolt. “Yes. This glorious king punished those Poitevin nobles whom he himself pushed to rebellion! He showed his true colors in that campaign: he doesn’t deserve anyone’s trust and loyalty because he will easily betray the loyalty his knights and subjects willingly give him.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand why Hood is so loyal to this man and is besotted with him.”

Allan didn’t know what to say. “I guess there are some reasons for Hood’s loyalty.”

Vaisey was glad that Guy spoke in such a disrespectful tone about Richard; it proved Guy’s loyalty to his master and Prince John. “Good, Gizzy. You pleased me.”

“I don’t respect Richard.” Guy bowed his head, a sign of solidarity in their low opinion about the king.

Vaisey smote his hands together, laughing. “La di da di da! It is so good that the leper queen remained a prisoner until King Henry’s death, partly to ensure Richard's good behavior.” He paused, a little breathless after a quick speech. “I bet she was very angry with her husband who enjoyed luxurious life and changed mistresses one after another while she was slowly becoming an old vegetable in her prison!”

“Queen Eleanor suffered a lot,” Guy voiced his opinion.

The sheriff scowled at Guy, his eyes dark with hatred, as if nightfall settled in them. “This royal leper got what she deserved. A woman must know her place and be obedient to her master.” The light in his eyes became more dangerous. “If a woman doesn’t obey her husband or her father, she must be taught a hard lesson – she must be domesticated like a wild animal.” He smiled at Guy. “This is also fair to say about your dear little missy, Gisborne. Lepers are worthless and must be used only for entertainment.”

Guy turned away, nervously chewing his bottom lip. The light of the torch fell on Vaisey’s sneering face, and Guy shuddered in horror at the sight of the pleasure on the sheriff’s face as they spoke about the queen’s tragic fate. Guy suspected that Vaisey hated all women in the world for some strange reason, for he always liked when innocent women – lepers in Vaisey’s understanding – suffered, were tortured, and then died. Guy wondered whether a woman had caused Vaisey much pain in the past, which resulted in the hardening of his heart and personality.

“Well, we have a lot to discuss for tonight,” Guy said, trying to defuse the rising tension in the air.

Vaisey smiled. “This story about the queen’s bastard is a thrilling one, right, my boys?”

“Very thrilling,” Guy retorted, though his sensations were very different.

The sheriff pointed at Guy. “Gizzy, do you know how the Queen Mother’s golden boy can help us?” He chuckled. “Queen Eleanor's huge army is stationed in Aquitaine and can quickly arrive in England in case Prince John tries to take the throne. John needs this army for himself to fight with Richard." He smiled. “We must make the prince’s dream come true!”

"What are we supposed to do?" Vaisey's mind was so crafty that Guy didn't see yet where his master was going.

"Gisborne, you disappoint me so much today," Vaisey taunted, looking at the man clad in black leather scornfully. "Prince John wants to control Queen Eleanor's army. As she will never allow him to use her troops, he needs to force her to do that. And how can he make her at least more agreeable, or better make her bend to him? It is easier said than done, but we have a chance to succeed now." He laughed. "The Queen Mother obviously loves her golden boy, and she will do everything to save his life. Imagine what a loving and desperate mother may do if she knows that her son may die so young."

"What does the prince offer? What are we gonna do to the queen's bastard?" Allan asked, suspecting what the sheriff and the prince wanted from the old lady.

"Our future King John wishes to break his mother’s spirit by taking her beloved bastard in captivity and then blackmailing her to cooperate with him," Vaisey enlightened. "Unfortunately, we don't know who our target is. We don't have detailed information about the boy's birth. Most likely, the child was secretly placed into one of the noble families."

"A family of Saxon or Norman lords?" Allan asked.

The sheriff shook his head. "We don't know for sure."

"Prince John is the Queen Mother's youngest son. The queen's bastard must be a little younger than Prince John, and the prince is twenty-seven years old. The man we are looking for must be about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, probably a little younger or older," Guy speculated.

"Good, very good, Gizzy!" Vaisey clapped his hands. "You are moving up on a learning curve!"

Guy disliked their new mission; his heart was apprehensive. "Yes, my lord," he said absently.

Vaisey laughed with glee. "King Richard knows his mother's shameful secret and has been guarding it for many years. The prince's spy heard the Queen Mother tell her confidante that she had begged Richard in her last letter to take her dear boy under his protection. Maybe Richard and Eleanor use birds, like Lardner, for communication. Why she requested Richard's help, we have no idea, and it is your task to figure out. We must learn the boy’s name and the whole story of his birth."

Guy nodded slowly. "Now I can understand why this man is Prince John's concern. Do we have to find him to please the prince?"

"What an idiotic thing to ask! I am surprised, Gisborne." Vaisey sneered. "You must find the bastard and throw him in our dungeon. Prince John wants to imprison this man within half a year at most."

“My lord, what will eventually happen to the Queen Mother’s bastard son?” Allan asked cautiously. “Will he die? Will we kill him?”

“At first, we must find the golden boy, and then we will see what to do with him.” The sheriff feigned grief. “Oh, poor golden boy! When he dies, I bet I may even weep over his grave!” He laughed. “I might not love him, but he is unique as he is the Queen Mother’s only bastard. Maybe I might have loved him if he were really golden instead of being a mere piece of meat.”

“A piece of meat is nothing; it is not precious, in contrast to a golden bar.” Nothing in the world could efface the resentment Allan felt for the old ugly man at that moment.

Allan’s lame attempt to joke attracted the sheriff’s attention. He came to Allan and wagged his finger at the young blonde man, a grin spreading across his face. “Don’t forget where your loyalty lies.”

Allan sighed. “My loyalty is with you, my lord sheriff, not with a band of stupid dreamers of eternal peace that will never come true,” he declared.

“There is eternal peace in heaven or in hell, if they exist. If someone wants to go there prematurely, I am always ready to help.” The sheriff smiled smugly. “I like when people are a little dead.”

“Yes, my lord,” Guy returned automatically.

A leering Vaisey directed a fierce glare at the former outlaw. “Allan, I hope you are not lying to me. Or your pretty body will be cut into many small pieces; then it will be given to the dogs that guard my castle.” He patted Allan’s shoulder. “Do you understand, my outlaw friend?”

Allan swallowed hard. “I am not lying.”

The sheriff looked attentively at the blonde man, and then he smiled. “We will see, Allan. Don’t let me and Guy down, and you will be rewarded.”

Allan nodded. “We will always do everything you wish and command, my lord.”

“Very good,” the sheriff retorted. “Be loyal and obedient like my lapdogs. I ask you for nothing else.”

Guy nodded. "We will think of how to discover the bastard's whereabouts. We will also work on the plan of Hood's elimination."

Guy disliked the prince's mission. He believed that they would have to look for a needle in a bundle of hay. They knew nothing about the queen's secret son; they were unlikely to succeed unless the prince's spies would give them more detailed information about the boy's birth. Strangely, he had a feeling that he would somehow find the queen's bastard son, either deliberately or not.

It appeared that King Richard had known about the existence of the queen's golden boy and had kept the secret. If the secret son was murdered, Queen Eleanor and King Richard would be infuriated; they couldn't kill Prince John, but they could take their revenge against the prince's pawns – Vaisey, Guy, and Allan. The Lionheart was a vengeful, cruel, and capricious man, much more dangerous man than he seemed at first glance. If Vaisey failed to kill the king, Richard would undoubtedly avenge his secret half-brother’s murder. And there was the notorious Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, who would be heartbroken and devastated if her golden boy died; she, too, was vengeful and an intellectual equal of many man, and she would move heaven and earth to make the culprits pay for her son’s death.

Besides, the murder of the Queen Mother's illegitimate son was a political matter. The queen's bastard, even though his existence was unknown, was a person of national importance, especially in Aquitaine, where Eleanor was born. If it was known that the queen's son was murdered, the loyal nobles and the common people, who loved Eleanor, would be extremely displeased and would side with her, despite her disgrace. The golden boy's death at the hands of Prince John might have caused the aggravation of the political situation in the Angevin Empire, if his identity and the fact of his murder were disclosed. Even mere rumors could create chaos in the Empire.

Guy wasn't sure that he wanted to participate in the mission. He understood many things Vaisey either didn't want to think about or preferred to ignore. The sheriff was convinced that he would eventually kill King Richard and divide England between the Black Knights, but Guy wasn’t as optimistic as his master was. At times, he thought that Vaisey’s head was full of illusions; another option was that the sheriff didn't tell Guy everything, and that unnerved him even more.

"We will do our best," Allan said quietly.

An agitated Allan felt a cold shiver running down his spine. He believed what Vaisey told them as the source of information seemed reliable. If he was assumed to work on the mission, he didn't know what to do. He had witnessed how Guy had murdered the Earl of Winchester and several others in cold blood. Roger of Stoke's blood was on his hands, and he regretted that he had contributed to Roger's death.

The sheriff and his men feared neither God nor devil, but Allan actually feared eternal damnation of his soul. He wasn't sure that he would be able to kill Queen Eleanor's illegitimate son and all the more the King of England. But what other alternative did he have? What could he do? Where could he found Robin? These questions that echoed and resounded in his weary brain drove him crazy. The gang disappeared, and he remained a traitor to them. He couldn't go against the sheriff and Gisborne, crossing blades with them and condemning himself to death. He was cornered.

As they had returned to Locksley, Allan excused himself and went to his room; he was distressed after the audience with the sheriff. Guy wasn’t himself and remained tongue-tied during the whole evening; he would have gladly escaped to an uninhabited island just for a day if only he could forget about Vaisey and Prince John’s missions. Not saying even a single word to Marian, Guy retired to his bedchamber immediately after the dinner was finished. The evening didn’t finish on a positive note.

§§§

Robin and his friends were spending the evening in the small living room within Robin’s master bedroom. They sat around the table laden with platters of all the delicacies they could found in Limassol. Robin again didn’t have appetite and sat, staring into the emptiness and brooding. Much sat next to Robin, looking with concern at his most beloved friend. Will and Djaq sat on a bench near the window in a silence, watching Robin. Little John busied himself with studying maps of Outremer.

Looking at the map of Acre, Little John was thinking of war’s horrors in the land of Christ. Finding a convenient moment, John asked Djaq about battles in the Holy Land: she only sighed and said that he would be unlikely to reel with pleasure after battles. Djaq also informed him that Saladin had executed hundreds of Christian prisoners after the victory at the battle of Hattin and many other Christian prisoners at the beginning of the Third Crusade. She also told John about the heinous massacre of almost three thousand prisoners taken hostage after the capture of Acre.

Little John knew that Robin didn’t like talking about the Crusade. Yet, only Robin could enlighten him about the service in the private guard; he had to talk to Robin. "Robin, tell me about the Holy Land."

Robin sighed heavily. "What do you want to know?"

"Something about battles," John began cautiously.

"Battles are fierce and bloodthirsty, often long and exhausting,” Robin began; then he paused, coughing nervously. “The Saracens fight differently as compared to the Crusaders. They are extremely agile and highly skilled with swords; they use scimitars and short curved blades."

"What about the massacre of Acre?" John asked after a moment's thought. "These people were slaughtered in the desert. I am sorry, Robin, but my mind refuses to accept atrocities like this. What did you do during the execution of the prisoners?"

Robin shuddered. Among his memories of the Holy Land, he hated the massacre of Acre most of all. During the campaign in the Holy Land, Robin hadn’t agreed with many of King Richard's actions, like the merciless slaughter of Muslim prisoners held hostages against Saladin. Robin had been one of the few Richard's generals who had voted against the execution on the Council of Generals, offering to wait and arrange the prisoners' exchange. Eventually, the prisoners had been executed as the king had believed that the troops couldn't have advanced further to Jerusalem with the captives in the train.

All of the members of the private guard had participated. Robin and Much had witnessed only the end of the execution as on that day they had gone on a special mission away from Acre and had returned to the camp only in the evening. Robin hadn’t been aware that the king had deliberately sent him away to prevent him from having new emotional scars. That case had demonstrated Richard's cruelty, and Robin had never forgotten about that. He had been also grateful that his sovereign had seemed to hold nothing against him after he had publicly voiced the opposite opinion about the prisoners' fate.

Robin unsheathed his scimitar and lowered his chin, looking at the blade. He imagined the blood of the people whom he killed in the Holy Land on the blade, and his heart pounded harder against his ribs. When he had learned about the execution of the prisoners, he had stormed into the royal tent and had screamed that Richard’s decision had been unfair and against God’s will. For the first time in his life, he had allowed himself to raise his voice and give his sovereign a piece of his mind; he had behaved disrespectfully and rudely towards Richard then. Robin had been astonished that he hadn’t been dismissed for insubordination or hadn’t been arrested after all the hurtful things he had told his liege into his face. After that argument, he had been distant from the king for a couple of weeks, but they had eventually reconciled. Robin still blamed himself for his failure to save those prisoners.

Still holding scimitar in his hand, Robin raised his head and locked his gaze with John’s. He kept his face devoid of emotions; instead, his expression suddenly changed, becoming wary. "I didn't participate in the massacre of Acre. Much and I were sent away from the camp by the king. When we returned, the prisoners had already been executed." He leaned down and put his sword on the floor. “The massacre was led by Lord Walter Sheridan and by my friend, Sir Roger de Lacy.”

Lord Walter Sheridan had trained King Richard's soldiers and knights, including Robin himself. Sheridan was a brilliant warrior, with vanity and honor put together; he had served in Richard's army on the Third Crusade and had been leading the massacre of the Saracen prisoners in Acre. Sir Roger de Lacy, Baron of Pontefract, Constable of Chester, and captain of the third guard of the king’s own forces was Robin’s close friend since his early youth – they had met at Prince Richard’s court in Aquitaine years ago. De Lacy and Sheridan had been at the meridian of their glory on the Third Crusade after the massacre of Acre, and every Crusader spoke their names with respect and admiration. Robin had been one of the few who had thought that their crimson glory probably was their damnation.

John looked dumbfounded. “Your friend?”

“Yes,” Robin confirmed. “Roger is a good man, but he is a soldier and he obeyed his king.”

“Very few of us Crusaders have a positive attitude towards Saracens, and even fewer of them share Robin’s views as to the unity of God,” Djaq intervened. She was curious where the conversation was going and even more amazed that Robin answered John’s questions about the Crusade.

Robin’s expression changed into thoughtfulness. “I started reading Quran at the third year of the Crusade because I wanted to understand and know our enemy to win the war.” He sighed. “It was when I understood that there is one only, the living and true God – we call him Jesus or Allah; but whatever the name of God is, there is only one God who created everything, and we live for him.”

Djaq smiled. “Robin, you know that I don’t think so.”

Robin grinned. “Yeah, we agree to disagree, Djaq.”

Djaq’s smile widened. “Oh, yes, we do, Robin.”

Robin was the only Crusader who was truly interested in the Saracen culture and traditions,” Much interjected, looking between Robin and Djaq. “Our comrades didn’t understand that.”

“Some of them even condemned me for my views,” Robin added.

“Why?” Will asked the first question during the evening.

“Well, most high-ranking generals don’t have this opinion. They have no right to think so for the reason of being too close to the king; I am an exception because Richard and I are close friends,” Robin pointed out. He shrugged, smiling mischievously as he was unable to deny that his unorthodox views for a Crusader were tolerated only because his liege loved him.

"Why did the king execute so many people?" John broached the subject that worried him the most.

Robin sighed. "Saladin failed to pay ransom for the prisoners, and we couldn't have them in our train during the march to Jerusalem.”

“But they were unarmed!” John persisted.

“King Richard knows what he is doing," Robin replied unhesitatingly.

Djaq cringed as her mind replayed the images of countless corpses of the Muslim prisoners that had been left to rot and bloat under the blistering sun. She remembered the landscape strewn with enough murdered men to sate all vultures for miles around. Richard Plantagenet had been rumored to have stayed near the place of the slaughter, sitting on his horse and watching the massacre with an expressionless face. She still couldn't believe that the king had calmly observed the murder of the thousands of unarmed, starved prisoners, begging Allah for mercy.

The young Saracen was well aware of how cruel the Lionheart could be. Robin didn't kill those prisoners in Acre with his own hand, but he certainly knew that Richard had committed a heinous crime, a mortal sin. In England, Robin had told the outlaws that there was no honor in slaughtering the heathens for the possession of a sacred place and that the holy war was pointless. Robin obviously regretted that he had gone to the Crusade. Yet, Robin was still trying to justify the king for the beginning of the Crusade on the ground that it was the king’s divine right to rule and wage wars he wanted.

Djaq admired Robin for his loyalty to England and the king. Yet, she wondered why Robin couldn’t see Richard's true personality after serving the king for so long. It would have been logical if Robin's soul had been growing increasingly sick as more and more evidence of Richard's craftiness and unending selfishness appeared over the years, Djaq mused. Nevertheless, Robin seemed to be as staunchly and unconditionally loyal to King Richard as he had been at the beginning of the Crusade. Djaq believed that Robin deliberately didn’t talk about the king's faults because of his deep affection for his liege.

"Hmm," John sniffed. “I don’t understand how the king could order that.”

Robin dropped his eyes to the floor, not wishing to look at his friends. “The king's will is absolute by the prerogative, in all matters. We have no right to discuss his decisions.”

“I don’t believe you think so, Robin,” John denied, not hiding the notes of astonishment in his voice. “The king murdered those prisoners! They even couldn’t defend themselves!”

“My nightmares,” Robin changed the topic, not looking at his friends. “The images are so dark, so violent, and so haunting. Do you really think that I like this conversation, John?’

“Sorry,” was all John said.

Robin veered his gaze to the big man. His eyes didn’t sparkle – they looked dead. “If you want to ask something else, then do this.” He sighed. “You have already reopened old sores.”

John looked guilty “I am sorry, Robin.”

Robin gave a withering smile. “Ask what you want, and I will answer,” he encouraged.

“I…” John stammered. He was hesitating, but then he spoke. "And what about torture by the Saracens?"

Robin didn't look amused. "Yeah, we once had an unpleasant experience in the Holy Land."

Before the king's troops had captured Acre, a large group of Richard's soldiers, including Robin, Much, and Robert, the Earl of Leicester, had been ambushed and kidnapped from the battlefield by the fleeing Saracens. Later, the Crusaders had awoken in an iron cage, their legs and hands shackled. Before they could speak, they had been brutally tortured and beaten with iron rods. Robin still remembered the pain in his back from countless small cuts, which had troubled him for a month after their release.

Before the next torture had begun, Much had shouted that the Earl of Huntingdon, the head of the king's private guard, had been among the prisoners. The Saracens had heard a lot about the legendary Captain Locksley, the best archer and one of the best swordsmen in King Richard's troops. Naturally, they had also known Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester and captain of the second guard. The Saracens couldn't kill and torture Captain Locksley and Captain Beaumont, the men of such a high standing at the King of England’s war court in Outremer. They had also respected Robin and Robert for showing mercy to the Muslim children and women.

Robin and Much shared uneasy glances. They didn’t forget the terrible weeks in captivity.

Much swallowed. "It was terrible."

A long, long pause followed. Everyone waited.

Robin tapped his chin; he didn't look at them as he spoke. "It is difficult to remember those days." Then he swung his gaze to his friends. "A group of soldiers, including Much and I, were once kidnapped by the Saracens. The days of captivity were difficult; the treatment was much worse than in the sheriff's dungeons. Finally, King Richard paid a huge ransom for us, and we were saved."

"It should have been more terrible than the sheriff's torture," Will assumed.

Djaq understood; she knew a lot about the Saracens' murderous tortures. "I am sorry, Robin."

"It is fine. It was a long time ago." Robin sighed as he saw a look of horror on John's face. "John, you shouldn't think that you will be captured and tortured to death if you serve in the king’s private guard. Anyway, you still have time to decide what to do. I am not asking you to join me. I may ask the king to grant you pardon, and then you can return to England."

"Robin, I said that I would follow you. I always keep my word," Little John assured Robin.

Robin sighed. "Think more, John. You still have time."

“Oh!” Much cried out as the thought came to his mind. "King Richard might punish those who offend his friends. When we were released from captivity, the king swore vengeance on the men who kidnapped us."

"Let's change the topic," Robin suggested, irritated.

Much didn’t realize that Robin was displeased. "Why, Master? This is so interesting!” He rubbed his cheek. "We didn't plan to make the raid on the village where we were kept prisoners, but the king ordered his troops to attack. The fight was fierce, and we took many prisoners. As always, Robin and Lord Leicester helped women and children escape; otherwise, they would have been massacred."

"Much, enough," Robin admonished.

"Robin, I am only speaking about our adventures in the Holy Land," Much responded innocently. "The king organized the raid for you and Lord Leicester. The king loves you so much that he couldn't forgive the Saracens who kidnapped us. Our liege avenged our sufferings."

Djaq, Will, and Little John stared at Robin, searching in his face either confirmation or denial.

Robin glowered at Much. "Much, you are so foolish! King Richard had more important things to do. It was not revenge. The raid on that village was planned before our captivity." He lied because he had to protect the chivalrous and fair image of his liege in his friends’ eyes. Richard was his king and his friend, as well as the symbol of hope for Robin Hood and his followers.

“Of course,” Djaq said, pretending that she believed him. She had a shrewd mind, was very observant, and possessed a keen, lofty intellect. She noticed that Robin's lips had thinned as if he had forced himself to speak; she knew that Robin lied to defend the king. Will was too young, and John didn't have Djaq's observational skills.

Much blushed, thinking that he thought that he said foolish things again. "Robin, you commanded the raid – you and Leicester. You know better."

Robin glanced at Much, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "Much, you speak a lot. You killed many Saracens, but you risk dying from my hand." His grin grew wider. "Your tongue is too sharp."

"Robin, I meant nothing bad," Much defended himself.

An irritated Robin reprimanded, "Much, you must ask me before you speak about something you cannot know. Otherwise, you simply rant and rant.”

"I am sorry," Much said genuinely.

Little John's questions about the war had a strong effect on Robin’s state of mind. Robin felt agitated, shuddering in trepidation and fear that his life in the Holy Land would again full of useless slaughter and lakes of blood. Robin believed that the land of Christ belonged to everyone – Muslims, Christians, and Jews. " _For every man, there is a purpose he sets up in his life. Let yours be the doing of all good deeds_ ," was ringing in his ears; he had learned that from Quran years ago. Maybe his divine mission was to serve the king and England, to work for peace in the Holy Land and to bring his sovereign back to England, sacrificing his happiness in personal life for the greater good.

Robin felt his chest heavy with painful emotions that were swirling inside him. His life was about to take a new turn: he was no longer Robin Hood – he was again Sir Robin of Locksley, the rightful Earl of Huntingdon, captain of King Richard's private guard, and Hero of Acre. Despite his unwillingness to return to Acre, he was prepared to fight and kill for England and his king. Taking a human life hadn’t been easy for Robin after his return to Nottingham, but now the undercurrent darkness, which he had buried in the depths of his heart after departure from the Holy Land, resurfaced. The hatred for Gisborne and the bitterness from Marian's betrayal fueled the renaissance of that darkness.

Robin felt that it was somehow justifiable to liquidate enemies and traitors to the crown, like Guy of Gisborne. Now he regretted that he hadn't killed Guy in the forest when he had just realized the truth about Guy's attempt on the king's life in Acre. Of course, he knew that he would try to save lives of his comrades and Turkish populace: whoever he was, Sir Robin of Locksley or Robin Hood, some things remained unchanged. Yet, he knew that he would have to kill in Acre, and maybe his nightmares would worsen, but he didn't care about himself; he would never fail his king and his duty.

Suffering from chronic nightmares about the holy war, Robin couldn't sleep and wandered through the enormous empty rooms of the Castle of Limassol. He stopped in one of the huge halls, with ten columns supporting its cornice, to admire the interior. Leaning against the window casing, he looked out into the terrace of the garden, which stretched out from the castle in an unbroken expanse of grassy lawn and was as smooth as a tide-washed beach.

Robin tried to enjoy the last days of freedom, before becoming a soldier again, but all his efforts were useless. His thoughts always returned either to the war in the Holy Land or to Marian’s betrayal, and he felt more desolate and lonelier, even sorrier for himself. He had long gotten accustomed to bearing the guilt for his crimes in the Holy Land, but he found it more difficult to struggle against visions of Gisborne holding Marian in his embrace. He was continuously haunted by the visions of Marian and Gisborne making love in his bed, in his old bedchamber, in his house. There was no place in the world where he could escape from the ghosts of the past roaming around in the darkness.

Robin stalked through the hall towards the garden and after opening large wooden doors arrived at the apartment that also looked out on the gorgeous green terraces. Suddenly, he felt a hand land on his shoulder; he paused and then swung around. He smiled warmly as his blue eyes locked with the hazel orbs of the older man, whom he didn't see for so long and whom he missed dearly.

"Robin of Locksley!" the old man exclaimed. "My dear boy!"

"Lord Sheridan!" Robin cried out. "What a surprise!"

Lord Sheridan enveloped Robin in a hug. Then he disentangled from a younger man and smiled. "I hope it is not a bad surprise, my boy."

Robin smiled. "No, no, Lord Sheridan." He made a sweeping gesture that embraced the whole splendid room, grinning at his companion. "I didn't expect to see you not on the battlefield, but in the place where everyone is more alone and more bored than in any other place on earth."

"Cheeky rogue!" Sheridan laughed.

"Oh, I am," Robin said, grinning widely. "What are you doing here?"

"King Richard thinks that I am too old to train his knights and lead battles. I was ordered to return to England and look after the king's crown. I made a short stop on Cyprus on my way to England."

Robin stared at Lord Sheridan, startled. Sheridan's blunt, tactless words about the king awakened bitterness in Robin. He didn't like that the old general whom the king loved so much spoke about his liege so disrespectfully. He frowned at the resentment in the older man's voice; then his face turned impassive. "Going to England is not a bad thing," he stressed coldly.

Sheridan smirked. "I thought that King Richard is my friend, but he threw away all my unconditional loyalty that I had given him throughout so many years. But he is not a good friend of mine any longer, I have to say."

"Milord, we should not speak about our king in such a disrespectful manner."

"Oh, Robin, I have already forgotten how angry you become when someone insults the Lionheart. Our king is so lucky to have you as his loyal subject," Sheridan said evenly. He laughed, his lips stretching back in a cruel grin. "What are you doing here? Are you going back to Acre?"

"I was recalled back to the Holy Land."

A deep frown creased his wrinkled forehead, and Sheridan supplied, "The war in those godforsaken lands is a disaster! My poor boy!" he thundered and put his hand on Robin's shoulder. "I cannot say I am surprised. King Richard needs you; you are irreplaceable in the private guard. Richard also misses you."

"I am doing my duty to the king."

Lord Sheridan smirked. "Robin, I wish you best of luck on the battlefields of Outremer."

"Thank you, milord," Robin said drily. "Have a pleasant journey to England."

Robin could feel a deep relief as Sheridan left. The conversation with his former trainer enraged him, and he felt a darkness and a blankness settling in his mind. He could almost feel the vibrations of hot anger in his stomach. He often was in the state of mind on the battlefield when he could slaughter the king's enemies without a second thought or have traitors executed by his own hand in an outburst of anger, like he had wanted to murder Gisborne in the woods twice. Robin forced himself to calm down taking long deep breaths; then he stormed out of the chamber.

§§§

After the meeting with Lord Sheridan, Robin returned to his bedchamber, intending to go to bed. As soon as he entered his bedroom, he was ready to scream as he noticed Much sitting in a chair near the bed, obviously waiting for him. He was bitter and angry that he was deprived of a chance to spend the evening alone. He didn't want to listen to Much's grumbling, ranting, or lamenting.

"Much! What are you doing here?" Robin’s sharp, annoyed voice echoed in the large chamber.

"Waiting for you, Robin. Where have you been for so long?"

Robin walked to the large, walnut bed covered with black and ivory tapestry. He stopped and removed his green brocade doublet with featuring tie-in sleeves; then he threw it on the bed. He settled onto the bed and stretched out his legs, lacing fingers behind his head. "Much, you are too curious like a small child who has nothing to do and fusses. Curiosity is one of the few lusts of your mind."

An open-mouthed Much stared at Robin. "Don't be so mean," he said after a pause.

"Don't meddle in my deals every hour."

"I was worried about you."

"I don't need that."

Much felt offended. "And if I am not worried, you won't be worried about yourself!"

Robin was endeavoring to stay calm, but his temper was rising. "Much, I can do whatever I want."

"But not at midnight," Much protested. "Where were you? With all these women who stare at you every time you pass through the great hall or the garden, your head high, a cheeky grin on your face?"

Robin sighed heavily. He was either moody or reserved in the past months, and if he was rubbed the wrong way, he often found himself unable to control his emotions and temper – he exploded and everyone suffered. That was the egotistical side of him, but he wasn’t willing to change himself. "I am a grown-up man, and I know what I may do and when I may do this. Stop behaving like my mother! I am not your child!" A large smile blossomed on his face, the first real smile in long weeks. "And I am a man of flesh and blood. We all are creatures of flesh and blood. If I find a beautiful lady whom I want to make my lover for a night, I won't ask your permission."

Much blushed. "Robin, don't speak so!"

"Why not?" Robin threw her head back and laughed sarcastically. He flicked his gaze to a bed, and lascivious thoughts circled his mind. When he looked back at Much, his expression was suddenly ebullient. "Now I have no lovers, but I am a free man." He pursed his lips. "There are many unfortunate pretty women at court – there is a legion of them here – who endure their wifely obligations and simultaneously think of their lovers or touch their rosary in prayer while they suffer the attentions of pot-bellied old men their greedy fathers forced them to marry." He scoffed. "Why may I not make a life of one of such ladies more interesting for just one evening?"

The eyes of a scandalized Much went wide, and his cheeks turned crimson. "Robin, what is going on in your head? You have always been very respectful and caring towards ladies. You have always treated them like delicate flowers that must be protected and cherished."

"I am not going to seduce maidens." Robin felt a twinge of regret at the sight of Much’s shocked face. Deep down he was unashamed for being so mean and saying to his friend such hurtful things, but he could do nothing with himself. Marian's betrayal dramatically changed his attitude towards women, and now he regarded every woman with cold cynicism and indifference. "Actually, what am I supposed to do with virgins? The world is full of lovely and pleasing whores, and widows are more interesting. One night of pleasure and then they are free to go!"

"Don't say that. You don't mean that. I know you don't." Much shook his head, dropping his gaze in embarrassment. "You are not the lowest creature, like Gisborne." He was quiet, as if brooding, and then his head jerked up. A shadow crossed his face as he stared at Robin. "It is because of Marian! You changed so much because of her! Oh, how much I hate her for what she did to you, Robin!"

"Women are like the Gorgons, and Marian is only one of them – she is just another Gorgon. Women, like these mythological creatures, have an inborn gift for deception and manipulation." Robin looked sideways, a sad smile hovering over his lips.

"There are good, decent women."

"Don't trust women. It is a friendly advice," Robin said icily. "You know nothing about women." He let out a cynical laugh. "And how can you know them if you don’t have enough experience with them?"

Much gasped. Robin's cynicism hurt him more than all the insults and unfair treatment he had ever endured from his former master. "Robin… Robin…"

Robin sniggered quietly. "Oh, Much, Much." He went still, and his words hung heavy in that oppressive stillness, only the low hiss of the torches filling the silence.

"What?" Much asked at last.

Robin smiled. "What?"

"You are smiling."

Robin chuckled and glanced away. "I am smiling because it is usually such a struggle to shut you up. I was dreaming of you shutting your mouth since I returned to my room and you began lecturing me. Now it seems that you finally realized that you cannot dictate me what to do."

Much nodded, sighing heavily. "You think I talk too much." He paused and got to his feet, then began pacing the room. "Well, I know that’s what you think. Much talks too much. And eats too much. Worries too much. It is easy for you to say because if I don't do it, then who does?"

Robin sighed. If his friend wanted to pour out the heart to him and tell him how much it ached, he wouldn’t reprimand the man. "Go on."

Much stopped pacing the room and stood near the opposite wall. "Robin, it is alright for you because you can just breeze through life and be everyone's hero and because you don’t have to worry about simple things, like the cleaning or the food or the hole in your cape or your birthday." He waved his hand. "Because old and loyal Much will take care of everything." He raised his voice. "Well, I will tell you something." He pointed a finger at Robin. "You take me for granted."

"It is not what you think."

An irate Much growled, "You shouldn't laugh at me! Just because I love you doesn't mean I can't hate you, too. And I hate you. Because in the Holy Land there were two of us and we were a team. The things we went through and the horrors we saw – we went through them together! And when we came home we were like brothers! We were brothers-in-arms!" His voice sounded more and more exasperated. "And where is that now, eh? It is gone. We are gone! You never talk. You just don't want to talk."

"Much, don't be angry."

"I am angry with you. I am very angry, Robin," Much snapped, choosing to repeat his sentiments. It was a cry, an angry mutter of the man who was mistreated by his most beloved friend for a long while. He didn’t know what Robin would think of him after his angry tirade, but he needed to talk; his words came from the heart. "You made me a freeman, but we are not equals. You say that I am a lord, but you still treat me like a servant, you don't treat me like your friend."

"That's not true," Robin replied quietly, staring sadly into the emptiness of the room.

"That’s is true! That’s true!"

Robin got to his feet and approached Much; he knelt and took Much's hand in his. "I am sorry, Much. You are my best friend, and it will never change. I may never say this, but I have always thought so." He smiled sadly. "I don't deserve you, Much. I take your loyalty and love for granted. I often hurt you, accidentally and, sometimes, deliberately. And you give me love that I don't deserve."

Much looked away, touched by Robin's tender words. "We often give love to those whom we love, whether they deserve it or not."

"Much," Robin said after a short silence, "look at me."

Much turned his head. "What?"

"Much, you are a better man than I can ever be – you are kinder, braver, more generous, and a stronger man than me," Robin said, his voice tight with emotion.

"No," Much objected.

Robin let out a long breath. "Yes, my friend." He smiled.

"No, no."

"And I am sorry."

"You shouldn't be." Much shook his head, finally remembering that Robin was an earl and he was just a servant who became a nobleman only due to Robin's generosity.

"I am sorry for myself, not for you," Robin clarified, not wishing to explain what he meant. "Go to your room and sleep. I, too, will try to have some sleep." He stood up and walked to the bed.

Much stood up and prepared to leave. "Robin, you must sleep. Don't think of her. Just forget and sleep." His tone was soft, but the last words – the reference to Marian, not even by her first name – were spoken with contempt.

Robin smiled. "I will try. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Robin."

Robin loved Much, he truly did. Much was his best friend and nobody else – nobody of Robin's noble friends and his war comrades, except for Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester – would ever be closer to him than Much. They knew one another since childhood when Robin's father had made Much Robin's manservant, asking him to watch Robin and keep the boy out of trouble; Malcolm had taken Much to Locksley several weeks before his death in the fire. Robin and Much grew up together; Much had followed Robin in his master's wild games and adventures. Much knew everything about Robin and understood him better than anyone else, except for King Richard and Robert de Beaumont.

It was true that Robin and Much had been almost equals in the Holy Land. Much had cleaned Robin's boots and swords, had mended his clothes, and had cooked for him, but in every battle they had been equals, fighting side by side for the king's life. They had also fought for their own lives, and Much had always been ready to sacrifice his life for Robin. Over time, Much and Robin had become more than a man and a servant, even more than friends after all the horrors they had gone through together. Robin had made Much a free man for the services in the Holy Land, and he had sincerely wanted to grant his friend the small estate of Bonchurch before they hadn't been outlawed.

Throughout many years, Robin was plagued by the nightmares about the Crusade. After they had returned to England, he had desperately wished to forget the Holy Land. And Much was the closest reminder of the holy war! When Robin saw Much, he automatically remembered the Holy Land, feeling guilty of killing Saracens and of taking Much to the Crusade; his friend wasn’t destined to fight in the Holy Land and would have felt much better if he had stayed in Locksley. Much had seen his master in the darkest moments of his life – when Robin had slaughtered the Saracens brutally and mercilessly.

Much was the personification of war, the reminder of the darkness Robin had buried in the depths of his heart, trying to pretend that it had never existed. Robin instinctively associated Much with many horrible things he wanted to forget. It was easier for him to grow more distant from Much to forget about the Crusade. So Robin could deliberately hurt his friend to push him away. Perhaps, Robin used that effective approach because Much loved him and easily forgave him, finding arguments to justify his behavior. He was selfish in expecting to be forgiven by Much, easily and always; he knew it, but he could do nothing with himself and he pitied himself more than Much.

Robin removed his clothes and crawled into the bed, but sleep didn’t come to him. He forced himself to shut his eyes, trying to fall asleep, but, instead, he only tossed and turned in his bed. The bed was large and warm, but lonely. Maybe he needed to discover the warmth and delight of having someone beside him in the bed, clinging to a body of a random lover in the throes of passion. A lovely and passionate woman, with a power to love as inexhaustibly and violently as raging sea, would make haunting fears and nightmares retreat from his mind for a while.

In the past, love affairs had been a good and pleasant entertainment for him, Robin thought. Before his first proposal to Marian and between their betrothals, he had slept with many women – married, unmarried, and widowed, usually choosing widows over other women because they were less troublesome, more experienced, and more willing to have a new amorous liaison. He thought himself unique in that regard, for other noblemen, even some of his friends, bedded pretty women regardless of their age, social standing, and marital status. He, however, had never taken a maid to bed, however, for it was an immoral thing to seduce a young, naive girl not being intent on marrying her after taking her innocence; Marian was the only virgin whom he had deflowered.

“Maybe I need a lover. Maybe it will help me,” Robin thought bitterly, staring at the ceiling of his room.

Robin was no longer betrothed and could do whatever he wanted. His body ached for pleasure, often waking him at night. He had a flirting nature and was a man of untamed passions, although in England, when he had been near Marian, he had controlled himself and had never crossed a line until the day of Sir Edward’s death. Now he just wanted to have a woman in his bed and move from one release straight into another with totally uncontrollable force, which would probably let him forget Marian.

Soon all of his thoughts about women and affairs perished from his mind, however, with a single glance at his weapons that lay on a bedside table. Feelings of panic and terror rose up in his throat, unyielding in its grip upon his consciousness. The unexpected meeting with Lord Sheridan and the conversation with Much brought back the memories about bloody massacres and battles in the Holy Land. He tried to think of his happy moments in childhood, but all these memories were always about Marian. He was afraid of falling asleep, knowing that even in the state of unreality he would be trapped between the nightmares about the holy war and the dreams about Marian in Gisborne’s embrace.

Robin rolled over onto his belly and buried his face in the soft pillow. He lay still with his eyes pressed shut, wishing himself to sleep, but he imagined Gisborne enjoying the fullness of Marian’s rosy lips and her silken honeyed skin. His heartache and loneliness seeped into his thoughts even when he was so tired, and each of those feelings colored and clarified Marian’s images to a vivid, poignant sharpness. He cursed under his breath and clenched his fists, and anger made his heart pound.

Finally, dark oblivion claimed Robin, but his sleep was restless. The visions of fierce fights, bloody massacres, crimson sand, and mutilated bodies resurfaced in his tired mind, and he dreamt of the battles and slaughter. Robin was once more on the battlefields outside the walls of Acre during the long and bloody siege. He saw himself surrounded by the endless crowds of dark-skinned enemies; he swung his scimitar right and left, and blood blossomed wherever he passed as he dispatched Saracens one after another, fighting with a wild mixture of savage brutality, lethal proficiency, and dark grace.

The ferocity of his nightmares increased. Robin dreamt of the longest and bloodiest battle he had ever fought in the Holy Land – the battle for the capture of Acre. His mind reproduced the dreadful pictures of the battle when he had stood waist-deep in the crimson waters of Saracen blood, slaughtering his enemies together with his men after they had passed through the Gates of Acre and entered the city.

Robin was spiraling deeper and deeper into darkness as the scenes of the capture of Acre played out in his mind. More and more details of the battle emerged from the darkness that engulfed him, and he tried to grope for a shred of light, but darkness was too thick and he continued falling. The nightmare sent a shudder of pure terror through his entire being, but no matter what he felt, he continued fighting, aggressively and violently, and  blood was everywhere around him. In his dream, Robin saw himself plunging the blade into the heart of a young Saracen, and suddenly he felt as though not his curved sword but his enemy’s blade had just pierced his heart with a single deep thrust.

Robin screamed in horror and pain, and his eyes fluttered open. He was taking deep, steadying breaths. He lay very still for a long time, feeling as if he were burning from the inside out, as if his heart were writhing in deathly agony. His nightmares had such a strong impact on his mind and all his senses that the air in the room felt somewhat different, as if it had been charged, heaviness and pressure eating down through his bones, and even the hair on his arms and legs were crackling.

He propped himself on the pillows and stared at the bedside table, his eyes focused on the long curved blade of his scimitar that lay there unsheathed. The blade gleamed pale in the moonlight. He picked up his scimitar; the familiar look and the feel of Damascus steel were nearly sickening. He stared down at the blade that had taken so many lives; then he traced its curvature with his numb fingers.

The door flung open, and Much entered the chamber, but paused at the doorway, his eyes focusing on Robin, his face calm but deathly pale. Robin turned his gaze at the intruder, and his sword slipped from his hands, clattering to the floor. Their eyes met, but, in the darkness, the outlines of their faces were only dim. They stared at each other with the curiosity and tension rising between them.

Much scrutinized Robin with an attentive, critical eye, contemplating the changes in his friend’s demeanor and thinking how different – so vulnerable and so human – Robin looked when wasn’t playing a role of a carefree flyboy unaffected by a war, burdens, hardships, regrets, pain, and heartache. For a brief moment, Robin’s expression seemed nearly distraught before shifting, almost instantly, to calmness and composure as he conquered his emotion.

“Robin, how are you?” Much asked as he closed the door noiselessly.

Robin’s gaze flicked up and down Much’s dim form, just once. “Why are you here?”

“You screamed very loudly, and I heard it. My room is next to yours,” Much explained apologetically.

“I am sorry if I disturbed you, Much.”

“You didn’t wake me up. I didn’t sleep… couldn’t sleep…”

Much strode towards the bed, but, in the darkness, he collided with a chair with an audible crack. He took another step and eyed Robin, and then noticed Robin’s scimitar on the floor, right near the bed. He let out a sigh of frustration, understanding that his friend had been gripped by intensive and truculent nightmares. In Acre, when Robin had emerged from a hellish nightmare, he had often held his scimitar in his hands, staring at the curved blade with vacant, dead eyes for a long, long time.

“Nightmares, Much?” Robin’s voice sounded hollow. He glanced down at his sword, and the idea that soon he would have to use this weapon to kill again penetrated his thoughts. He felt bitter acid rising up in his throat, and that sickened him. He shrank back from his sword in disgust.

Much stood in the middle of the room. “Yes. Are you also troubled?”

“As always.” Robin nodded emphatically. “I am always dreaming of the battlefields of Acre.”

“And so am I. Will these nightmares ever stop tormenting us?”

“I don’t think so. It is normal for us. It is… our punishment.” Robin inhaled and exhaled, slowly. “And now my dreams are especially savage and bloody.”

“It is the Holy Land thing. We are so close to Acre,” Much agreed.

“I guess it will pass over time… as soon as we again get accustomed to war.”

“Do you need something, Robin?”

Robin shook his head. “No, I don’t. Thank you.”

“If you want, I can ask a servant girl to bring a goblet of wine and fruits for you.”

“I need nothing. You should go to your bedroom and try to sleep.”

“Robin, call me if you need or want something. You know that I will always take care of you.”

Robin flashed him a brilliant smile, but that smile was a brief one. “I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for your loyalty and friendship,” he said softly. He was disheartened to say pleasantries to anyone, but it was his ever-loyal Much who was genuinely anxious about him.

Much smiled. “You owe me nothing. Just don’t die and stay with me.”

“I am with you.” Robin smiled affectionately. “Now go and rest.”

As the other man opened the door and disappeared in the corridor, Robin rolled back against the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. Somehow he put all his troubling thoughts aside, relaxing for the first time during the evening. Lulled by the comfort of his chamber and the temporary calmness in his heart, he began drifting to sleep. The window was ajar, and a light sea breeze blew around him, playing with a few wayward strands of his hair.

When he opened his eyes next time, the sky was pink and scarlet-gold, domed with soft, glamorous clouds all rimmed in gilt. It was a purely innocent picture of nature, but Robin wasn’t happy as the remnants of nightmares were still clinging to his mind. He blinked against the light, welcoming a bright, warm day. He smiled vaguely, thinking that the blue sky overhead was a much better picture than the cool, inky darkness that enrobed loneliness, fear, pain, and heartache in his heart instead of hiding them under its cover. At least he didn’t have to sleep in the daytime and was free from his awful dreams.

§§§

Guy lay on a wide mahogany bed hung with heavy green curtains, a multitude of striped cushions spread across the white linen sheets. He was in Lord Locksley's master bedchamber. Two walls were hung with tapestries and with golden and green brocade. There were an oak table, several polished wooden chairs, a small chest of drawers carved with chevrons, and an empty brazier in the corner. Lavender Aubusson carpets covered the floor; hanging candelabras provided illumination.

Guy wore only his long black brocade night robe. He was always dressed only in black: black leather, black brocade, or black silk – only black. He started wearing black at Vaisey's request, but he began thinking about changing his clothing style after his marriage to Marian. Yet, he didn't dare change his appearance and image in order not to fall out of the sheriff's favor.

He was thinking of the events of the past days. Vaisey made several proclamations, warning the citizens not to take donations from Hood's gang and threatening to kill everyone if they dared defy his orders. The sheriff did his best to tarnish Robin's reputation, but he was still failing to make the villagers change their opinion about the outlaw. A one-time act of mercy didn’t improve Vaisey's popularity among the folks. The hints that Robin Hood had deserted the peasants gave Vaisey no advantage, for the hero's absence was viewed not as cowardice but rather as a bad omen. The people were concerned about Robin's safety, and the rumors about Robin’s death were spreading in the town.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Guy shook his head. Then he ran his eyes across the room, feeling utterly disgusted. The room was furnished and decorated in the Huntingdon’s colors – golden and green, not the Gisborne's yellow and black. At Locksley Manor, Guy lived in the master bedchamber, which had been once occupied by Sir Malcolm Fitzooth of Locksley, Robin Hood's father; he remembered about that very well since childhood. Today he learned that Marian lived in Robin of Locksley’s old master bedchamber, and that nearly sent him to the verge of his sanity. Guy hated Locksley Manor, not feeling that the manor was his house – it was Robin of Locksley’s home, not his or Marian’s. Maybe he had to refurbish the house, he thought. He would need to talk to Marian the other day.

He climbed out of the bed and rushed to the window. His legs were weak, and he fell on his knees and froze in that pose, gazing up at the narrow view the window afforded of the starry dark sky. Closing his eyes, he emitted a tired, heavy sign. His mind drifted back to the days of his early youth, replaying over and over again the tragic scenes of the fire and all his troubles.

Guy's life had never been easy. He had had to struggle for a piece of bread and his survival when he, together with his younger sister, Isabella of Gisborne, had lived in poverty in Normandy for many years. Once, Guy had been a well-behaved, good young man with a bright and promising future that had been destroyed by Robin of Locksley and his father Sir Malcolm of Locksley.

Guy didn’t forgive Robin for the case when the people of Locksley had assumed that it had been Guy's arrow that had injured the priest on the day of commemorating fallen warriors in the Holy Land. Guy had been so close to being hanged back then only because of Robin's show-off of archery skills! He had been saved only because his father had unexpectedly arrived in Locksley. Robin had denied that his pranks had caused the fire, seemingly willing to blame Guy for the priest’s injury.

Later, thanks to Malcolm of Locksley, his mother’s lover, Sir Roger of Gisborne, had been officially declared dead and banished to a leper colony. Finally, after Guy's parents and Robin's father had died at the fire at Gisborne Manor, the Gisborne lands had been included in the Locksley estates, for Roger of Gisborne had been Malcolm of Locksley’s vassal, while Guy and Isabella had been exiled.

Guy remembered the tragic day when his parents had perished in the fire as though it had happened yesterday. He could almost clearly see Malcolm of Locksley's furious face as the man had entered the Gisborne Manor and had dashed upstairs where Roger and Ghislaine had been trying to sort out their relationship. Guy had tried to prevent Malcolm from entering the manor and going upstairs, but the older man had turned berserk with rage: Malcolm had pushed Guy away and then climbed the stairs.

Guy still remembered the strange words spoken by Roger and Malcolm as they had quarreled. He could still hear his mother's desperate pleas stop as she had tried to separate the two fuming men who had unsheathed their swords and had started fighting. Guy had failed to understand the meaning of the disjointed and strange phrases Malcolm and Roger had screamed to each other.

“I was wrong… to give up without a fight, and I see it clearly now,” Roger of Gisborne declared in a high voice, apparently talking to Malcolm. “How you had things planned from the moment I returned.”

“You brought disease to your family. If you loved them, you would have stayed away,” Malcolm of Locksley snapped angrily as he lunged at his opponent with his sword.

“You are an adulterer, Malcolm of Locksley! You are a traitor!” Roger screamed as he parried Malcolm’s blow. “You enthralled the woman of such a high standing! You didn’t care that your own wife was carrying your child while you entertained yourself!”

Guy had heard the hissing clash of metal upon metal as Malcolm and Roger had quarreled and had fought in a vehement duel for the heart of the woman who had been begging them to stop.

“Please stop! I beseech you! Stop!” Ghislaine pleaded, forcing calmness into her voice. “Malcolm and Roger, you must stop this madness!”

Malcolm made an assault on Roger. “You are a traitor, Roger of Gisborne! So many people died because of you!” His voice was a hissing sound of a serpent preparing to strike its victim. “And then you betrayed me, and now my innocent son and many other innocents will suffer!” He gave a howl of rage as he attacked his opponent. “You are twice a traitor!”

Both men had called each other traitors! Guy's thoughts whirled in his brain like scattered pieces of a difficult puzzle. He knew that those words had carried a certain weight, but he had no idea what they could mean. Maybe he hadn’t heard everything correctly, or maybe he had misunderstood something. Perhaps, they could have been spoken nonsense as anger and fury had clouded their judgment.

Then everything had gone terribly wrong: Guy had dropped a torch and the fire had begun. Since then, he blamed himself for the death of his parents. The local bailiff had known about Ghislaine's affair with Malcolm and had blackmailed them to assign him Gisborne's lands in exchange for silence. The bailiff had used his chance: he had ordered the villagers to set a fire outside the manor in order to avoid spreading leprosy in the village. The manor had been burning, the commotion had escalated, and everything had become fraught with danger amounting to insanity.

Guy of Gisborne hated and despised, with all his black, empty and broken heart, Malcolm of Locksley and his son Robin of Locksley, an arrogant, spoiled brat. He had taken an oath that he would take revenge on Robin for the years of poverty, for the banishment from Locksley, and for the disgrace of the Gisborne family. He had vowed that one day he would re-take everything back and would destroy Robin. Yet, for some strange reason, Guy remembered Robin's frightened face shining in the red light of the fire, tears streaming down the boy’s cheeks, and that image nearly made Guy's own heart collapse in his chest, his heart craving for redemption. He found it amusing that he probably was the only man who had seen the legendary outlaw scared and emotionally vulnerable.

Reduced to abject poverty and cornered by a primitive need to survive, Guy of Gisborne and his sister had roamed around Normandy after their mother's relatives had thrown them out of their family estates upon the receipt of the news that Roger of Gisborne had been declared a leper. Guy and Isabella had slept in streets, in various inns, or in convents. Guy had worked as a servant, but he had earned so little money that they had starved and he had given his food to Isabella.

Later Guy had been forced to become Vaisey’s henchman and had had to carry out the most despicable tasks – to commit murders of enemies of King Henry and then those of Prince John. Vaisey had insisted that Guy give Isabella's hand in a marriage to Squire Thornton, his third cousin, who had given a huge sum of money for his sister. He had allied himself with Vaisey to survive, although his master had also promised him power and help in restoring his inheritance – the Gisborne lands. Years of misery had taught Guy that love, humanity, and compassion could be easily replaced with power and wealth, and he had thought so until he had fallen in love with Marian of Knighton.

For so long, Guy’s life had been filled with loathing, envy, and jealousy towards men like Robin of Locksley, the golden child of Sir Malcolm of Locksley. When Guy had arrived in Nottingham with Vaisey and had been permitted to look after Robin's lands and interests in Locksley's absence, Guy had felt happy for the first time after years of misery. Neither Vaisey nor Guy had expected Robin to return from the Crusade, and his future had seemed so bright then. He had begun to carry out his long-awaited plan of revenge at the moment when he had made himself comfortable in the Locksley Manor, much to the distaste of the servants and the villagers. Instead of a warm welcome in Locksley, the village he had considered his own even in Robin’s absence, Guy had been despised by everyone.

Nonetheless, Guy had been in elevated spirits: his dream had materialized and he had had Locksley, and he had become a powerful man in Nottingham, his opinion had mattered a lot and he was feared though not respected. He had tried to re-open acquaintances with those nobles who could have known his parents, but all of them hadn’t wanted even to mention his father’s name. Even Sir Edward of Knighton had never talked about Guy’s childhood in his presence, either because the former sheriff had forgotten or because he hadn’t wished to bring painful memories into Guy’s life.

After he had gotten the news that the Earl of Huntingdon had played a hero in the Holy Land, Guy had begun to think that Robin hadn’t valued what he had been given by generous life and God from birth. Vaisey had informed Guy about Robin’s achievements on the Crusade in details. Black hatred had consumed his entire being when Guy had learned that Robin had greatly distinguished himself on the battlefields of Outremer. By the time he had traveled to the Holy Land, he had already been aware of Robin’s survival and of Robin being captain of King Richard’s private guard and the king’s favorite.

Enthusiastic about the opportunity to kill King Richard, Guy had done his best to organize the Saracen raid on the king's camp. Vaisey’s Saracen allies had told Guy many extravagant and incredible stories about the legendary Captain Locksley; they had also shared with him their grave concern that Robin could have foiled the regicide attempt. At the initiative of the same allies, Guy had been given a chance to see a glimpse of Robin in Acre, so he could have recognized the threat on the raid.

Guy had disguised himself as the Saracen. His band and he himself had attacked the Crusaders’ camp in the late night. He had been assisted by Vaisey’s Muslim accomplices who had additionally hired several highly-skilled Saracen assassins to guarantee the successful result. Although Guy had planned to kill Robin in revenge, he hadn’t been sure that he would be able to do that on the night of the raid.

Guy had believed that God or devil had smiled upon him when he had accidentally discovered Robin in the distance; he had recognized him at first glance. Black hatred had flared up in his heart, and Guy had decided to use his chance. His heart pounding harder in delight, he had approached Robin from the back and had stabbed his archenemy in his side, hoping that the blade had pierced Robin’s heart. He had watched Robin fall to the sand and had heard Robin’s scream of pain. His heart had swelled with happiness at the thought that he had taken Robin’s life; he couldn’t have believed that he had managed to kill Captain Locksley so easily while so many others had failed to succeed.

In the king’s tent, Guy had stood near the bed of the sleeping king, preparing to strike a downward fatal blow. But something had snapped in his heart, and for a moment he had hesitated in his decision to proceed with the killing of the rightful King of England, for regicide was a grave crime and he had still had a little shred of honor deep down. He had been losing time while light and darkness battled for dominance in his heart, and then Robin’s desperate voice calling for the king had taken him out of his thoughts. Robin had stopped him on that night in spite of being so grievously wounded by him, and he had been barely able to escape from the king’s camp without being captured by the king’s guards.

Guy had been so close to having everything, but his mission in Acre had ended with complete failure, and it had been only Robin of Locksley’s fault. He had been only in one step from the greatest and most cherished dream of his life – having absolute power and earning Prince John’s highest royal favor, but all his plans had been ruined by his childhood nemesis. Yet, Guy had been kind of relieved that he hadn’t assassinated the king then, and his own sensations still puzzled him a lot.

After the attack, King Richard had ordered to check all ships sailing from the port of Acre. For several days, Guy had had to hide in the small house on the outskirts of Acre. Vaisey’s Saracen allies had informed him that Robin’s life had been in grave danger and that the king had summoned several doctors from Acre, Tyre, and Jaffa to the Crusaders’ camp to save his most beloved knight. Guy had rejoiced, hoping that Robin would die and that he would become the permanent Lord of Locksley.

But fortune wheel had turned against Guy again. Robin of Locksley had survived his nearly fatal wound and had returned to England. Robin had unceremoniously thrown Guy and his men out of Locksley, and the leather-clad man had returned to the castle, seething with anger and hating his enemy more than before. Vaisey had promised Guy that he would have Locksley back within a month, but, unexpectedly, Robin himself had helped him retake everything back by breaking the law. Guy had been swooning in happiness when Robin had been outlawed, thinking that his enemy had deserved to be stripped of his titles like he himself had been deprived of his inheritance after the fire at Gisborne Manor.

For so long, Guy had dreamt of depriving Robin of everything – status, wealth, manors, and his ex-fiancée, beautiful and kind-hearted Lady Marian; he had been displeased that the Earldom of Huntingdon had been taken by Prince John after Robin had been outlawed. He had succeeded and had taken everything from Robin, even Marian who had married him on the day of the siege. Guy had been delighted that he had avenged his misery and the disgrace of his family!

But in fact his quest for vengeance was futile and pointless: Robin Hood was a noble hero and he, Guy, was a black-hearted villain, and he didn't know how to change that. Robin was loved and admired by the common people and even by many nobles, while Guy was hated and despised by everyone. Even Vaisey admired the outlaw's cleverness and artful tricks. Guy also knew that Robin hadn't lost King Richard's great favor, and he dreaded Richard's return, if the monarch would really return.

Guy considered Robin's idealistic principles utterly ridiculous, especially given the fact that Robin was the king’s grand favorite and a highly-skilled warrior who had killed hundreds of oSaracens in the Holy Land. Robin was a fool if he had truly believed that there could be justice for everyone in the highly structured society of England. Guy didn't understand Robin's passionate desire to champion the interests of the poor and Robin’s unwillingness to take a human life, thinking that it was a weakness and foolishness. Robin's actions after his return were beyond Guy's comprehension.

Hood was a fool if he believed that King Richard would return and restore justice in the country filled with evil and oppression. Richard the Lionheart was a ruthless monarch who was ready to sell London to finance his Crusade, and Guy had no illusions about the absentee king who cared more about the foreign wars that depleted the treasury and deprived the nation of so much money. At least John was in England, not in the Holy Land! Robin Hood was a stupid idealist and a dreamer, Guy thought.

Nevertheless, in the depths of his heart, Guy admired Robin and envied his freedom, foolhardiness, cunning, and boldness. The outlaw was naive and perhaps mad, but he was the first man who defied, humiliated, and mocked Vaisey in public, lived as he wanted in the great royal forest, and was in sober fact the ruler of the green realm. Guy wasn’t as audacious, conniving, and strong as Robin, and he didn’t have Robin’s rebellious spirit: he followed Vaisey and endured humiliation, expecting to earn power and more wealth in reward for his obedience and submission to the sheriff’s will. Robin was too proud and would have never tolerated Vaisey's abhorrent treatment, and Guy envied him in that aspect.

Robin Hood was the King of Sherwood, perhaps the most famous man in Nottinghamshire and in England as he had become the first noble who had publicly defied tyranny and had fought for justice and for the poor. Robin Hood was a hunter who preyed on the rich, stealing their wealth as they passed through his realm. Guy was so much unlike his foe: he was the servant of the demon of Nottingham hopelessly trapped by loyalty to the man whom he deeply loathed; he had no freedom.

Having knocked at the door several times and received no answer, Marian entered the bedroom walking on her tiptoes. She frowned as she saw Guy on the floor near the window. She crossed the room swiftly and stopped next to him. "Guy, what are you doing? Why are you not sleeping?"

Marian’s heart fluttered in her chest. Guy looked devastatingly handsome, his night robe fitting his broad shoulders admirably and revealing the lean, muscular shape of his chest and his legs. But it was his face that captured Marian's gaze, the full force of coldness, harshness, and rare vulnerability on his strikingly handsome features. His gaze was frantic and tender and pleading all at once, as if he were about to break if she didn’t touch him. His black hair was neatly brushed, but one errant lock persisted in waving near his temple, and Marian had an impulse to reach up and brush it back.

Guy raised his eyes to her face. "Marian!" he exclaimed. “Marian! You have come to me!”

Marian shivered as she heard his voice pleading with her to help him. Guy reached out for her, and she let him press her so hard against his chest that she thought he would crush her to death. His forehead was pressed to her shoulder. They were frozen in an embrace for a long time, and then, still sitting on his knees, he looked up at her, his eyes full of pain and despair. He cupped her face tenderly with both hands as he brought his lips against hers; she permitted him that, knowing that her touch would give him strength. Then he embraced her and buried his head into the crook of her neck. He was quiet for a while and his body relaxed, as if he had forgotten about all his worries and concerns.

"I am here, Guy," she whispered, her lips brushing the hair on the nape of his head.

“You came,” he said wonderingly.

“Of course,” she answered.

He looked up at her, his expression pained. "Marian, you are my angel. Stay with me."

"I am with you. I won't leave you."

He was still deeply affected by his memories. "There were so many horrible things in my life," he muttered under his breath. "There are so many unusual words in my head!"

She cast an agitated glance at him. "What happened to you? What is haunting you?"

He swallowed hard. He wasn't ready to tell her the truth. He couldn’t let her know about all the crimes he had committed at Vaisey’s order and about his banishment from Locksley. She was so pure and he didn’t want to tarnish her with his wretchedness. "Marian, I am sorry, but I cannot tell you anything,” he said softly, suddenly feeling afraid and desperate. “Not now. Just don't leave me: stay with me and make my life bearable. Wherever I look, I can find no one to confide in."

"This is what I am going to do, Guy."

A discomfited Guy was looking at her with pain-filled eyes for a long time. "Do you mean it, Marian?"

Almost shyly, her gaze met his, a flush staining her cheeks attractively. "No, unless I have to," she said with a timid smile. "I want to be your faithful friend, ally, and wife. I want to help you." Gently, she touched his cheek with the backs of her fingers. “Everything will be alright, Guy.”

Looking at her, Guy thought that she was _his only light in the world of darkness, his guiding light to redemption_. Yet, there was the emptiness inside of him and the intricate darkness in his heart even when she was with him. For a split second, a thought entered his mind that was a dangerous one but even more disturbing: he suddenly doubted that Marian could wash away his sins, and he told himself again that she and only she was his only possible absolution. His life was full of sorrow and pain that was probably everlasting, and only she could make his life bearable.

"I need you so much, Marian. I need you,” he pleaded, his voice hushed and shocked.

“You see I am here now. Aren’t you curious as to why I have come?” she asked in a low voice.

A smile tugged at his lips. “There are many things I am curious about when I look at you. I want to know more about you and your life before my arrival in Nottingham.” He chuckled. “I could list a hundred questions I would like you to answer but I hope you yourself will tell me in time.”

“Perhaps.” Her voice was strained.

“Why have you come?” His eyes burned with curiosity and hope.

“I wanted to see you, and I was worried about you,” she said softly, her voice quietly breaking along with her heart. She did really want to see him, but now, looking into his eyes, she didn’t feel delight and pleasure – only shame and guilt. Her eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over, and she blinked hard, trying to hold them back. “I wanted to be sure that you are alright.”

Guy went so still, and for a moment it was hard to tell if he was even breathing. Then a large smile illuminated his face, and his eyes filled passion. “Marian,” he said her name.

Marian smiled at him, feeling his strength pass into her and suddenly believing that their union would make them insuperable. Her enemies would flee, and demons would return to hell. The long struggle seemed to be over for an instant, and her weary spirit was blossoming in a shaky, revivifying peace.

Then Robin's face flickered in her mind, and a sweet longing for him was so strong that she believed she could actually feel his presence and could hear his breathing, feel his heat. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like if Robin were there beside her at that moment. She opened her eyes and swept her eyes over the chamber, trying to feel where Robin was, but she couldn’t. She blinked and frowned. She blinked again – the vision of Robin's face was gone. Robin was not there, and most likely he wasn’t even in Nottingham, she told herself. Yet, he was always in her mind, and it scared her that she often imagined she was with Robin while Guy was close to her.

She gave Guy a smile, feeling guilty for what she was doing to him, to herself, and to Robin. A shudder shook her entire body, and she suddenly wanted to run away from him in shame. Her treacherous heart was thumping wildly in her chest, like a bird suddenly caged. Indeed, she was caged, like one of Vaisey’s bird – she was Guy’s wife who lived in the golden cage, in the house stolen from the man whose heart she had broken months ago. Yet, the more often Marian thought of Guy and their marriage, the more powerful the spells he cast on her were. Maybe it was madness, but it was inspired madness.

Guy pulled her into an embrace, but Marian disentangled from him. A dizzying wave of feeling grew and spread inside her. She felt swoon overcoming her. She suddenly felt hot, so hot, as if she had been burning in the red flames of fire. She whipped her head up and around, her eyes frantically wandering around the room. Sweat broke out on her forehead. Her heart pounding in her ears, her head spinning, she gazed at Guy without a clear understanding of reality.

Marian drew a deep breath. "I feel so strange."

A panicking Guy called, "Marian!" He put a hand on her forehead. "You are burning! You are feverish!"

She made a vague gesture. "Guy," she murmured.

"Get help! Get help!" He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

Marian didn't hear his cries. Her body went limp in Guy's arms, and she passed out. Having heard Guy's desperate cries for help, Thornton, and all the other servants heard rushed upstairs to the master bedchamber. Guy put Marian on the bed and commanded Thornton to send someone for a physician in Nottingham.

Guy refused to leave Marian's side and sat on the edge of the bed, holding her limp hand in his. Even when Sarah, Marian's maid, appeared in the room with a bowl of water, Guy ordered her to leave them alone, stating that he himself would take care of his wife. He took a clean cloth, soaked it in the cold water, and brought it to Marian's forehead, trying to comfort her as much as he could.

In half an hour, Doctor Blight, the sheriff's physician, arrived from Nottingham. Guy insisted that he wouldn't leave his wife. Only after several minutes of intensive persuasion from Thornton, he scrambled to his feet and walked out of the room. He didn't come downstairs and stood near the closed door, waiting for the doctor to come out and tell him about what happened to Marian. Thornton and two other maids stood behind Guy, watching him with interest.

Guy trembled all over when Doctor Blight finally went out of his bedroom. He blanched as he looked at the doctor's serious, sullen face, fearing that Marian could be gravely ill and couldn't be saved. The very thought of Marian's death caused his stomach turn inside out. A tremor of panic ran through him at the thought that he could lose her before they had a chance to be happy, before he could prove to her that he could become a better man. But could he prove to her that? Did he want to do that? He didn't know and he didn't care at that moment. Marian's health was the most important thing.

Guy swallowed hard. "What happened to my wife?" His hands were clenched in fists, angry with the whole world that Marian was sick. "Is she ill? Tell me everything."

"Lady Gisborne contracted a high fever," Doctor Blight informed. "It looks like she caught a cold some time ago and didn't pay attention to her worsening condition. I think she ignored the seriousness of her sickness. As a result, she lost much weight and her body is weak. Infection is spreading in her body, and I don't know how strong she is to resist it."

Guy's expression shifted from imperious impatience to dreadful fear; a mask of coldness was gone. He noticed that Marian was deathly pale and thin, but she never complained that she felt bad. But Marian wasn't an ordinary woman; he had to know that she wouldn't complain and show her weakness, but he failed and he blamed himself. Fevers could kill, and he was overwhelmed with fear to lose her.

"How can we help Marian?" Guy inquired, his voice thick with emotion.

"I did everything I could. I told Sarah how to take care of Lady Gisborne and to keep a fever down," the doctor said. "Lady Marian is young and strong. She will survive."

Guy approached the physician and gripped the collar of his doublet. "It is not enough that you think she will recover," he hissed between clenched teeth. "You must be sure!"

Doctor Blight shuddered in fear. The people feared to cross Guy's path, and so did the physician. "I have done everything I could. I will check on her every day."

"Master Guy, Lady Marian is young and strong. She will be alright. It is just a fever," Thornton soothed as he distinguished the fear in the physician's eyes.

Guy released the doctor and stepped aside. He misdirected his anger at the man who wasn't guilty of Marian's decease. "May I come in?" he asked quietly, humbly, with dignity.

"My lord, the maid may stay with Lady Gisborne. Your wife has a high fever, and it might be dangerous for your own life," Doctor Blight warned.

"Master Guy, you may contract a fever too," Thornton said.

Guy gave the physician and the servants a killing glare. "It doesn’t matter. I want to be with her."

Not saying anything else, Guy opened the door and strode forward. The physician and the servants remained outside the room, startled with Guy's insistence to be with his sick wife. The physician said that he would check on Marian tomorrow and went downstairs.

"I don't know whether you have noticed, but Master Guy has never been so worried about anyone else," Bridget, one of servant maids, admitted. "I think he loves her."

Thornton nodded. "Sir Guy is not heartless."

"He has a heart only when he is close to Lady Marian," the old woman added, a little shamefaced that they were discussing their lord. "But maybe she will change him."

"Let's hope so." Thornton shrugged.

A weary Guy froze in the middle of the room and stared at Marian. She lay on the bed – motionless, pale, and vulnerable. Her maid had already undressed her in her white nightgown, the color of which was almost the same as that of her skin. He had never seen Marian so vulnerable, and his heart thumped in his ears at the thought that she was feeling so unwell. She had always been a strong, healthy  woman, but her current predicament made her look more feminine, Guy mused, maybe because that was the first time when a vulnerability was so plain on her features.

Guy seated himself on the bed and took her hand in his. "Is she sleeping?" he asked the maid.

Sarah gave a nod. "Almost. The doctor gave her a calming draught. She will fall asleep soon."

Guy dismissed the maid, "Good. You may go.”

As the maid curtsied and hurried to leave. "Yes, Master Guy."

Guy pressed the back of his hand against her forehead, then her cheeks. He gasped in horror – she was burning. She stirred under his touch and half opened her eyes, her vision blurry.

He smiled at her. "You will be fine, Marian," he said, his hand stroking her hair. "You should have told me that you felt unwell in the past days."

"I didn't want to worry you," Marian murmured.

"You should have told me,” he reiterated.

"I feel rather well," she pretended.

"You should rest," he said softly. "If you want something, please tell me."

She forced a smile. "Thank you. I think I will sleep. I want to sleep."

He bent his head and kissed her forehead. "Then we will stay here, with you, just for a while."

As Marian drifted off to sleep, Guy was still sitting on her bed, looking at her, holding her hand in his. He didn't want to leave her, as if fearing she would die if he left her side. Marian's sickness shocked him. Her poor condition and the way she had hidden it from him was bad enough, but the danger of fever was unbearable. Looking at her paleness and feeling how hot she was, Guy was so horrified that he couldn’t speak and move – he could only stare at her with a prayer on his lips.

His heart skipped a beat as the image of his mother‘s face filled his mind – Ghislaine had also looked deathly pale in the days preceding the fire and her death. He frowned, for he still wondered why his mother had felt so unwell at that time. But this thought slipped from his mind as quickly as it entered it. He could think only of Marian’s health and her recovery, and he didn’t worry about all the questions and complications that still lay between them. ‘The now’ was more important than anything else.

Guy leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. "You will be alright, Marian. You will recover soon," he whispered to her, to himself.

During the next several days, Guy refused to leave Marian's side and spent most of the time in her bedchamber, neglecting his duties at the castle. He sent Allan to inform the sheriff that he wouldn't come to Nottingham until Marian felt better and her life was no longer in danger. Everyone in the Locksley Manor was stunned that Guy spent so much time with Marian, and the image of a cruel, heartless henchman cracked, for they had a chance to see him from a different side.

Wrapped in warm blankets, Marian was burning with a fever, tossing and turning in her bed. At times she muttered something under her breath. She didn't know about that, but once or twice she called Robin’s name in a fever; it was a sheer luck that Guy wasn't in the room at that moment, and only Sarah heard her call Robin. As she heard Robin's name escaping her mistress' lips, Sarah shook her head, not knowing what to think. Marian also called out Guy, begging him to understand her and not to blame her for her lies. Of course, Sarah told Guy nothing about what she had heard.

Doctor Blight came to the Locksley Manor every day, saying that he expected Marian’s fever to break soon, but stressing that the situation might have been rather dangerous. However, Marian was young and strong, and he anticipated her complete recovery. But the medic’s assurances were not enough for Guy: once he threatened Blight that he would kill him if Marian died, and, shaking in fear, the physician again pledged that he would save her life. Guy was very unbalanced while Marian was sick.

The search parties in Sherwood Forest were canceled, but the sheriff continued the vile campaign of painting Robin as a self-serving villain and a coward. Allan told Guy that the sheriff gathered a crowd of people in the central courtyard and again made a public proclamation that everyone associated with the outlaws would be put to death. Vaisey sneered at the crowd that Robin Hood, their beloved hero and protector, had been a weakling who no longer wished to fight for their interests and give them food. The sheriff laughed at Hood and called him _a glory-hunting, self-serving, and cowardly swaggerer_ who abandoned his people whom he hypocritically professed to love until his dying day.

The gossip that Robin Hood and the outlaws had been killed circulated in the shire. The Nightwatchman also disappeared, which puzzled the sheriff, Gisborne, and the townspeople. The deliveries of food and medicaments had stopped around three months ago, and now the villagers had to live with the funds that remained after the payment of taxes to the sheriff. Even though the villagers didn’t believe Vaisey’s words about Robin, they were beginning to lose hope and their belief in Robin Hood, for days were passing and they waited for their hero but he didn’t come. Vaisey did everything – possible and impossible – to twist and blacken Robin's image in the people's eyes.

To his credit, Guy stopped oppressing the villagers of Locksley and showed leniency towards those who failed to pay taxes in time. In secret from the sheriff, Guy also permitted Thornton to give away some food to villagers; he did that for Marian, thinking that she would have approved of his lax regime in Locksley. Meanwhile, the sheriff was still driving the peasantry of Nottinghamshire to a life worse than that of wild beasts in the woods by increasing existing taxes and enacting new ones. But at least there were no executions, and the people didn’t lose their limbs or fingers in punishment for crimes they didn’t commit. Whether the sheriff’s new plan would work or not, that remained to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are probably surprised that I introduced the twist with Queen Eleanor's illegitimate son, the queen Mother’s golden boy. Don’t be astonished, for there will be quite many unexpected twists and turns in this story. Well, you may try to guess who the queen’s secret son is. What is your random guess?
> 
> Much blames Robin for treating him like a servant instead of an equal. The scene of Robin’s argument with Much mirrors their conversation in the barn in S2E12. I even took a part of their dialogue from the scripts to the episode, revising it only a little bit, although in the end of their conversation Robin apologizes to Much in a different way. Robin and Much needed to have a frank conversation, and you will see in the next chapters that Robin will be trying to correct his past mistakes – he will become closer to Much and will change his attitude to him will be more considerate.
> 
> The information about the massacre of Acre is historically correct. I didn’t want Robin to participate in the massacre, and it also was a way to show how much the king loves Robin if he even sent Robin – his captain and chief general – away from Acre on the day of the execution of prisoners to spare him pain from watching the slaughter in the desert.
> 
> Lord Walter Sheridan made his first and not his last appearance in this story: he is one of the main villains, and in part 3 “Fight for Peace” he will cause a lot of trouble to Robin and his friends.
> 
> Guy and Robin's back story is like on the show, in the episode "Bad blood", but it is much more complicated here. Perhaps, you noticed something interesting when Guy remembers his childhood. Later, you will learn the mysteries of the past hidden from Guy and Robin.
> 
> Guy and Robin's old conflict plays a very important role in this story. Guy and Robin will have to face new truths about their past, shocking and interesting. Guy will eventually realize that he shouldn't hate Robin so much because Robin’s role in the plight of the Gisbornes is not as significant as he thinks.


	6. Temptation

**Chapter 6**

**Temptation**

Marian's condition was improving day by day. Her fever broke on the fifth day. She awoke and even said that she was hungry; her appetite was a good sign that she was well on her way to recovery. By the end of the week, Marian felt much better, and she was stronger and healthier. She was no longer as pale as a ghost, and her skin again had its normal alabaster coloring. Marian was permitted to leave the bed for a short time, but she still had to spend most of her time bedridden. Although she was not happy with that, she didn’t argue and endured everything in silence, with a cold, detached smile. She simply decided to enjoy her some peace before facing the demons of Nottingham again.

Dressed in a pink silk nightgown and a matching wrapper, each of the garments Guy's recent gifts, Marian sat in her bed, propped by her pillows, engrossed in boredom and staring blankly into the flames in the hearth. She wished to leave the bedroom. She still looked sick, but her features – her dark hair that hung over her shoulders, her soft skin, her bright sapphire blue eyes, her full lips – could describe very well how one could decay from sickness and yet stay expressive and beautiful.

Guy entered the room and walked to her bed. Looking down at Marian, he settled on a chair near the bed. "How are you feeling, Marian?" His voice was silken.

Marian gazed at Guy, her eyes steady. "I am feeling alright, but bored."

"The doctor said that you may leave the room tomorrow. You are already strong enough."

"I know," she responded. "Will you go to Nottingham tomorrow?"

He gave a nod. "Yes, I will – I must be there." A shadow crossed his face. "I wasn't in Nottingham last week. The sheriff will be furious if I don't come tomorrow."

“I see,” Marian said with a sigh of resignation. She didn't want to argue with him about his attachment to the sadistic and cruel man whom she loathed and hated. His words made her worry about Robin’s safety, for Guy seemed determined to continue leading search parties in Sherwood Forest.

“I have to attend the Council of Nobles and perform my duties as the sheriff’s master-at-arms.”

She took in Guy's appearance. He was neatly dressed, but he looked very tired: there were dark circles under his eyes, his skin was pale. Sarah told her that Guy had spent much time near her bed. "Guy, did you sleep well last night?"

"Are you really interested in my wellbeing?" He raised his eyebrows and forced a smile.

"Yes, I am." She shook her head. "Why should I not be?"

He smiled heartily. "Marian," he whispered her name. "When you were sick, I was here, with you. I was very worried."

She raised her chin, a playful smile on her lips. "Oh, you have nothing to worry about."

Guy stood from the chair and sat on the bed. "If you want something, let me know."

"Thank you. I am alright."

Guy seated himself on the bed. "Good."

"You neglected your duties at the castle, didn’t you?"

He smiled slightly. "Yes, I did."

A dimple he had never noticed flashed in her cheek with a lopsided smile. "I didn't expect that. Was Vaisey angry?"

He smiled wider. "I think he was."

She chuckled. "Yeah, it is good," she mimicked the sheriff.

Guy cupped her face and stared into her eyes. "I couldn't leave you. I feared that you would die in fever. I had to be here, with you," he said, the whisper raw in his throat.

"I thought that power and Vaisey are more important for you."

"How could power or something else be more important than your health and you, Marian?" Guy stroked the hair away from her forehead. "Vaisey could wait. He won’t run away from me." In the past week, he was able to breathe with full lungs as he didn’t need to swallow his master’s humiliation. Although he was concerned about Marian's health and scolded the servants, he was less intemperate and calmer. The absence of regular contact with the sheriff had a positive impact on him.

Marian smiled brightly, her heart hammering harder. Guy said that she was more important to him than power, and his words melted her heart. He said what she always craved to hear – that she was more important than everything else. She searched his eyes, as if for once unsure whether he spoke the truth. For a moment, her mind drifted back to Robin whose first priority was the king, and she suddenly felt angry at him for giving her only a secondary place in his heart. Then, anger was replaced with delight that Guy thought differently. She only hoped that Guy told her the truth.

Guy devoted all his time to her when she was sick because he loved her, Marian believed. He indeed had a tender heart and there was the deeply hidden goodness in him, but he would not allow himself to show his better side while he was under Vaisey's influence, she thought, blaming the sheriff for Guy's cruelty. Her determination to save Guy from darkness and from himself strengthened.

Guy put his hands on her shoulders and stared at Marian with a gaze of great, unimaginable intensity. She eyed Guy. Even tired he looked very handsome, and she no longer denied that his dark handsomeness had always attracted her to him. She looked into his eyes and saw that they had darkened with what she thought was passion. His eyes were not cold and impenetrable – a violent storm of a southern sea raged in his orbs.

Marian shivered. Her treacherous body was already responding to his presence, eager to feel magic sensations of pleasure it craved. "Stay with me tonight," she said, her voice shimmered certainty.

He felt his heart pounding harder. He didn’t anticipate she would say that, especially not when she was still recovering from a fever. His gaze roamed over the fine features, and He wanted to stay there forever, tongue tangling with hers. But he said not what he thought. "You feel unwell."

She smiled. "If you leave me alone, I will feel terrible, almost disappointed."

Guy didn't wait for any longer. He bent his head as the arm went around her and lifted her up to him. He kissed her and drank her lips, searching the sweetness of her mouth with his tongue, loving her inside and out. Then his kisses trailed down her neck with little nibbles that made her moan quietly.

"Marian," he whispered against her lips. He broke the kiss and glanced into her eyes, his own eyes sparkling with pure joy. "You are mine, Marian. By this act, we will be truly wed."

She gasped for air as she had never seen so many raw emotions in his eyes – disbelief, happiness, joy, delight, desire, and passion. She tangled her fingers in his hair. "We will,” she murmured.

Guy leaned towards her, his lips brushing hers. His touch sent a shiver down her spine and back to her arms that circled his back. Hungrily, he kissed her, thanking the goddess of love, Venus, for her desire to be with him, a part of him still not daring believe that it was happening. The kiss went on forever, fierce and possessive, his tongue deep inside her mouth. Then he finally lifted his mouth and looked at her, head pulled back by his own hand, his gaze fell on a vein beating visibly in her neck, and he could see how much she did really want him. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her eyes bright with desire and her gaze unfocused.

Marian no longer thought rationally. She wanted him. She wanted to give herself to him totally, without teasing, luring, using her female charms on him, or trying to entrap him – just to surrender to her desire for that handsome dark-haired man, _for her husband_. It was so exciting, she thought. She clutched the back of his head and pulled him to her. His mouth was on hers, and he kissed her again, so deeply and so hotly that she felt as if she were falling into some endless and deepest lake of pleasure that ripped through her every time his lips touched hers.

Guy broke the kiss and hugged her as he wrapped his arms around her back. Enjoying the marvelous feeling of her body, he held her close, his chin on the top of her head. They both breathed as if they had been running a long distance. Their hearts battered their chests, trying to break through.

Guy felt as if her body always called to his and that the sense of peace and redemption lay alongside a feeling of completeness she gave him, and he dreamt that he might deserve her love and earn redemption through that love. _But were her heart and her mind calling to him now_ , at the very moment when she desired him so much? Robin’s words about _Marian’s heart not belonging to either of them_ entered his mind, and he brushed off those thoughts, but they still plagued him like pestilence and famine which were intent on slowly killing him.

He glanced down at her and smiled. "Are you really sure?" he inquired tactfully.

She smiled, and that smile strengthened his confidence. "Well, I thought that you had no doubt I want this to happen between us," she replied with such fervor that Guy laughed at her.

Her heartfelt gladness to be with him as a husband sent a thrill of excitement through him. He subdued it, but it was there, seething under the surface of his calm appearance. He stood up and walked to the table in the corner, then extinguished all the candles in the room, thinking that she would feel more comfortable - less embarrassed – in the darkness. Then he came back to the bed and sat there.

Guy wanted Marian. All he could think of was touching and fondling her. His body was thinking for him, and he decided that he would respond to her invitation in the most fervent manner.

The layers of clothing between his palm and her breasts frustrated him, and he suggested that he would be glad to be rid of his clothes, and she nodded at him in agreement. He helped her undress, taking off each of her garments with expert courtesy. He often paused, looking into her eyes, as though he needed further encouragement to continue. Her nakedness was hidden by the darkness, but she still trembled under his touch that was burning her skin with the heat from his fingers.

The moonlight flooded the room, and their silhouettes cast dark shades on the wall opposite the bed. Guy pushed back the bedcovers and landed on the bed next to her. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she became acutely aware of her nakedness and his. His male physique was revealed before her, taking her breath away. She watched his chest evenly rise and fall, and then her hands slid down his ribcage and then up over his flat stomach. His body was athletic, his hands strong, his chest broad, with hard muscles under the smooth exterior of his skin. She looked up at him in wonder, and he smiled at her. Breathing hard, Marian continued touching Guy, lightly following the lines of his features, tracing his eyebrows, his lips, and his jaw line. His face matched his body – hard and purely male.

Yet, even now Marian thought of Robin against her will, imagining his lithe form she had seen entirely nude when they had been intimate. Robin’s body was lean and slender, but he was physically strong, his legs muscled from running and riding, his torso muscular enough from constant fighting and training. He wasn't a large man of a dark complexion like Guy, but he was perfect all the same. She remembered how her hand explored his chest with some tawny hair on his torso and then traced a few of his old scars stripping his arms and his chest. Yet, Robin hadn’t allowed her to touch the heinous scar on his left side, covering it from her with his palm.

Guy, too, had several scars on his chest and on his shoulder, obviously from serious old wounds. She wondered why Robin had so few scars after fighting in the Holy Land for five years. Guy and Robin were so different, but they both were handsome and physically attractive in their own ways.

Marian looked at Guy’s left forearm where she had seen a black wolf’s head tattoo when he had been taken captive by Robin in the forest, but now there was only the scar from the burn that, obviously, wasn’t supposed to be there. For a moment, her expression changed into suspicion, her brain working to find an explanation, but then Guy’s next actions didn’t give her a chance to ask him anything.

The urgent, maddening alacrity, with which Guy drew her to his chest, flung his arms around her back, and kissed her on the lips, almost overset Marian. He let his lips trail their way from his mouth down her neck and along her jaw, eventually reaching her mouth again. Marian thought that if he didn't make love to her, she would die in a moment. And that was very strange, for she had taken great pleasure in her lovemaking with Robin, but she had never been so curious to understand what would happen next and so eager to feel more that the indecent intimate pictures formed in her mind at inappropriate times. She ached with desire and could have wept with wanting him.

The awareness of what was to come hung over Marian. A pang of guilt passed through her and reminded her of her secret sin – she had already belonged to Robin in the woods. She tensed in his arms, but Guy certainly didn't understand the change, probably thinking that she felt a mere emotional discomfort before the continuation of their intimacy. She sighed, banishing the memories of Robin from her mind and struggling with a huge discomfort she had in her heart. Yet, that discomfort could not compete against Guy's eyes glowing with passion and desire.

"Let us forget about the world tonight," Guy said hoarsely. "Tonight you are only mine. Only mine."

"I cannot disagree," she murmured in a half whisper.

"It will be alright," he said thickly, coaxing her to relax.

Marian shook her head mutely, her eyes brilliantly blue. The idea of finally joining together with him, flickered alive in her mind, blinding her with a bright, tempting promise of something she didn’t know. All at once, all her doubts evaporated from her mind and her heart pounded frantically in the steadfast consciousness of her own choices and desires: Guy was her husband and it was her own decision to be with him when she had married him during the siege. Somewhere deep inside, she was preparing herself for him because it was a good time to consummate their relationship.

Leaning her head on his shoulder, she let him take her lips and then find her warm and soft secret places. His hands caressed her body, his lips were traveling down her throat and then to her breasts. He touched and explored her everywhere, thinking that she was sweet, the sweetest woman he had ever tasted. He was overwhelmed. Her response to him was so innocent, so untutored, and so alluring. It made him want to bury himself inside her straight away. He groaned as her arms tightened around his waist. He had to control himself. He had to act with restraint, to finish his demonstration of how dramatically pleasant and mutually satisfied their encounter can be.

"Guy,” Marian breathed as he lavished her throat with kisses.

"It is Heaven,” Guy muttered, his lips moving to her breasts. "You are my Heaven, Marian." He slid his hand between her legs. His caresses became more intimate, and it jolted Marian out of her half-dream, and she pulled away from him.

She looked into his eyes. "No," she whispered as she jerked her mouth from his. "No, we cannot do this, Guy. This is not appropriate.” Robin hadn’t acted so boldly.

He smiled at her. “Ah, I can do this and many other things to you.” His gaze was dark with passion, as if he realized exactly what she was feeling. "Let me touch you, Marian.”

"Yes," she breathed, despite her reservations. She closed her eyes as if to shut out the knowledge that she wanted him to do that.

Guy shifted her further up the bed, and then they joined together as he entered her slowly and stopped for a moment, allowing her time to adjust. She gasped in surprise that she didn't feel any pain at all, instinctively putting her hands on the either side of his hips. He muttered something indistinguishable under his breath, then positioned one hand behind her neck and kissed her on the mouth. Her lips parted, and he sought to regain the possession of her warm mouth, a marvelous sensation that was so desirable that a dangerous throbbing awoke their blood. They sank into a dark oblivion.

“I should have started courting you many years ago,” he murmured quietly before lowering his mouth to hers. He gave her a long and passionate kiss. “But I couldn’t do that.”

“Why, Guy?” Her voice was deep and husky.

He skimmed his ﬁngers along her side, across her bare hip, down her thigh. “I had nothing to offer, while I wanted to give my wife all the best – security, wealthy life, and happiness in a marriage.” He paused, sighing deeply. “We just arrived in Nottingham, and though I was the sheriff’s right-hand man, I didn’t have… my own lands.”

She stiffened with righteous indignation. “Guy, I have never been interested in wealth and power more than I was interested in the wellbeing of the people. I have always thought that one can be happy without wealth.” She didn’t verbalize that she didn’t consider the lands, which Guy currently held, his rightful possession - Locksley belonged to Robin and nobody else.

“You impressed me when I met you at the Council of Nobles at your father's side,” he confessed. “At first, I was stunned how beautiful you are, but later I realized that there are many other great qualities in you, like compassion, kindness, and intellect.”

While Marian’s beauty had attracted Guy to her at first glance, there had been another reason why he had been very interested in her personality. Before the fateful the Council of Nobles, when Sir Edward of Knighton had attended the meeting not as the sheriff of Nottingham but rather as the Lord of Knighton and a usual nobleman from the shire, Vaisey had mentioned that Lady Marian had been betrothed to Robin of Locksley, who had joined the king’s expedition to the Holy Land.

Guy had been surprised that Robin had joined the Crusade. As he had seen Marian at the Council, his astonishment and surprise had been superseded by sheer shock and hot anger. He had failed to understand how any man in his right mind could have preferred fighting for England and the king if he could have led a normal life at home and could have created a family with such a beautiful and well-bred young lady. He had despised Robin for leaving Marian. He had been very angry that Hood had inflicted the pain of separation and abandonment on Marian.

Guy had been genuinely puzzled with Robin’s motives of going to war. Robin had had everything others craved to have but had to work very hard, usually trying to earn royal favor and be rewarded for a loyal service. But Robin had lofty titles, lands, wealth, and status from birth, and he also had a hand of a gorgeous fiancée, but the fool had left everything behind and had gone to chase after glory on the battlefield. Guy had laughed disdainfully that the spoiled brat had exchanged a comfortable life for a bleak chance of survival in the distant foreign lands.

The fact that his sworn enemy had deserted the dark-haired beauty had made Guy’s keep interest in Marian. He had watched Marian reject many suitors, trying to guess whether she would eventually marry someone or would wait for Robin. She had been cold and had seemed uninterested in marriage, and over time nothing had changed. He had known that he would be most likely rejected by her if he had asked her father to give his permission to court his daughter. He had heard rumors that Marian had waited for Robin’s return, which had heightened his hatred for his enemy.

After Robin’s return, Guy had feared that Robin and Marian would easily rekindle their affection. After Robin had fled to the forest, Guy had stopped considering the outlaw a serious rival for Marian’s hand in a marriage and her heart. He had wanted to take everything from Hood, and if he had married Marian, he would have completed his revenge. Anyway, Guy had planned to marry someone in order to continue the Gisborne line, and the perspective of marrying Marian had seemed appealing and real. Besides, he had been slowly falling for Marian since his arrival in Nottingham, and by the time he had started courting her he had already been in love with her.

She shut her eyes. “I was also interested in you, though I tried to… deny my feelings for you.”

He kissed her cheek, her closed eyes, her brow. He would never grow tired of kissing her. “Marian,” he called her.

“What?”

“You are my treasure,” he whispered hoarsely before his mouth began its heated sojourn over her neck. “You are so beautiful, chérie. You are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

She traced her ﬁngers over his cheek, his chin, his mouth. “Guy, you can be so romantic.”

He smiled. “And why not?”

Guy kissed her, and Marian relished in the feeling of his strong arms that trapped her against his body and in the firm muscles that rippled as he deepened the kiss. He drew back and framed her face between his large hands. He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes shimmering with warmth and affection. He bent his head and his lips moved slightly as he whispered endearments into her ear and then kissed her temple, each cheek, and the tip of her nose before again settling his mouth against her lips. She was incredibly precious, and he wanted her to realize how much she meant to him.

Marian was tired. The passionate experience of the night had made her eyelids droop. She lay in his arms, but sleep didn't come to her, and she pretended that she was asleep. Although she persuaded herself that she had left her past behind, the different images of Robin and herself still penetrated her mind. Some of those images sent thrills of excitement stabbing through her, and some caused various sensations in her body. No, it wasn't important anymore, she told herself, and Robin seemed to be distant; she again felt that she had done the right thing when she had married Guy.

Guy knew that she was feigning her sleep. Despite Marian's fears, he didn't think about her innocence, although he had already noticed that and wondered who had been her lover before he took her to bed. Anger flared up in his heart at the thought that she hadn’t been a virgin and had told him nothing, but there was something else that shocked him more. His brain was occupied with a sickening suspicion that dawned upon him as soon as his hands felt a small scar in the lower part of her abdomen, in its right part, just like the Nightwatchman's scar should have been. He was stunned when his hands discovered a scar in the darkness and wished to have a look at it in the daylight.

He didn't want to discuss with Marian the case at that moment. The time was utterly inconvenient – after the consummation of their marriage and when she didn't recover completely. He hoped that he was mistaken and that it wasn’t the Nightwatchman's scar on her skin. Yet, suspicions continued nesting in his mind. Still, he refused to believe that it was true, for the Nightwatchman had to be a man, one of the Hood's outlaws or friends. Marian was a woman, and she couldn’t be the person whom the sheriff and Guy had chased after for so many years.

As Guy withdrew into the world of his own, Marian thought of her spontaneous decision to marry Guy. She sighed, thinking that even after the consummation of their union with Guy, the shadow of Robin Hood stood between Guy and her. Robin was always in her heart, she couldn't forget him. She wondered whether there would be a time when she would be free from the spell Robin had cast on her.

§§§

Several days passed since Robin and the outlaws had arrived at Cyprus. Every evening there was a luxurious banquet or an official reception at the royal court. As a nobleman and a renowned King Richard's general, Robin had to attend all those events in accordance with the standard protocol; he didn't like that, but he had to act properly, in the way befitting his station and noble birth.

Bored with the monotonous life at the court, Robin observed how courtiers were swarming like bees around the Earl of Leicester, Count de Champagne, and other members of King Richard's delegation. Robin barely repressed a laugh as he watched all those people sitting, moving, and chatting in strict compliance with a dull, prearranged protocol. He masterfully concealed his contempt when he heard the courtiers gossiping about him and the reasons for his return to Palestine.

Wicked tongues discussed the nature of Robin's relationship with King Richard. Some said that Robin was just a royal favorite and the king's close friend. Some went further and stated that there was Richard's blood in Robin's veins. Others said outrageous things – that Robin was Richard's lover. Some people spread gossip that Robin had shared Richard's bed many times over on the Crusade and even before; there were rumors about Richard's preference for men a long time ago.

Robin ignored all the gossip, but the rumors that he was Richard's lover infuriated him. He wasn't sure whether Richard had ever tried to sleep with men, but he believed that those nasty rumors were spread deliberately to tarnish the king's reputation. Truth be told, Robin had never seen King Richard with a man in his tent or somewhere else in a compromising situation, in the Holy Land or anywhere else. He knew about some of Richard's mistresses and about the king's long-lost love; his liege had told him about some intimate facts of his life in one of their heart-to-heart conversations.

Almost all the courtiers heard about Robin Hood. The rumors about the outlawed war hero and King Richard's favorite spread across England, Normandy, Aquitaine, and France and had even reached Outremer. Some Crusaders hummed motives of songs about the rebellious, honest, and courageous Earl of Huntingdon who sacrificed everything for his country and his people and who opposed the tyranny in England, fighting against injustice in the absence of the fair King Richard. Indeed, many bards had already composed many songs about Robin Hood, the savior of England and the poor, which were sung in taverns, inns, harbors, and at times even at the courts.

Everyone thought that King Richard had already pardoned Robin and his gang of outlaws; at the worst, the king would pardon him upon his arrival in Acre. Very few knights expected the King of England to be angry at his grand favorite because of his adventures in England. Yet, the audience was in anticipation how King Richard would greet Robin in the Holy Land. They didn't know that Robin didn't share their confidence in being welcomed by Richard with open arms.

When Robin was not involved in the court procedures and meetings with friends, he still was extremely reserved. The gang understood why Robin continued behaving in that manner – they knew how deeply Marian's marriage to Guy had wounded their leader’s heart. Knowing that Robin needed the support of people who really understood him, Edmund, the Earl of Middlesex, told the Earl of Leicester about Robin's personal tragedy; Leicester was shocked with the news and very sympathetic to the depth of Robin's grief, which he masqueraded with false smiles, bravado, bragging, and indifference.

All young ladies at the court usually looked at the two gentlemen, King Richard's favorites – Robin and Robert. As much time passed since Robin's departure from Acre and as he was known as Robin Hood, he attracted much more attention than even Lord Leicester. Robin shone the brightest among the courtiers. The ladies were fascinated with the Earl of Huntingdon's presence in Limassol. Robin's life and spirit were immortalized thanks to his adventures in Sherwood. Women considered Robin a romantic hero, and many of them had a romantic dream of being kidnapped by a handsome noble who turned an outlaw, becoming his sweetheart and living in the forest for a little while, just for fun. Robin was a war hero and a living legend, and that drew women to him.

"Robin, what do you think of going to the brothel tonight, the finest one in Limassol? Let's have a good time, huh?" the Earl of Leicester asked in a low baritone, giving Robin a conspiratorial look.

Robin regarded the other man in light bemusement. At first, he was silent for a long time, staring at Leicester with a hard but pensive gaze. Then he eventually spoke, his voice sounded far-away and unfamiliar. "Yeah, Robert, I don't mind… but not with whores. Have you forgotten that I don't like bordellos? I have always preferred widows over whores."

"There are many willing widows at court."

Leicester's eyes wandered to the young blonde woman in a yellow brocade gown and the raven-haired woman in a magenta rose dress. They both looked at Leicester and Robin.

"Who are they?"

Leicester laughed. "Oh, I knew that you would be tempted."

Robin smiled slightly, the playful gleam in his blue eyes. His gaze oscillating between the two women, he murmured, " _Temptation is strong_."

"Lady Catherine de Mathefelon is a lovely young widow. Lady Constance de Toucy is an unmarried young lady, Prince John's former mistress. These Aquitanian damsels are more than willing to warm your bed tonight. Just look at them."

Scanning the banqueting hall, Robin felt that he was seized with tremors of unbidden sexual desire. Many women winked and smiled at him: he didn’t need to go to a brothel because these women were more than eager to sleep with him. Many of them openly expressed their desire for Robin when he passed them in corridors of the castle. Marian had betrayed him, and he didn't sleep with a woman since his encounter with her. It would be a good idea to spend a night with a beautiful woman while staying on Cyprus. At least, he could find some solace with one of those belles who didn't hide their attraction to him. His mind was in joyous turmoil, his body tense and alive with a hunger for physical release.

Robin laughed, but it was a chilling sound. "I am as free as the wind, and I want Lady Catherine to be in my arms tonight," he said, with a cynical smirk.

"Then, Lady Constance is mine for this night."

"Any of them is yours, Robert."

"Yeah, I prefer Lady Constance. She is taller."

Robin giggled. "Very well. I myself prefer Lady Catherine because she is slimmer."

Leicester laughed back. "I hope you are not going to make a secret of your affairs here. It would be such a shame for you, my beloved Robin Hood."

Robin chuckled. "I have never made a secret of the fact that I like women and they like me. At Queen Eleanor's court, many ladies liked me, and I liked being with them."

Robert laughed. "Yes, the courtiers knew about your liaisons with several widows."

"I don’t deny that." Robin nodded. "Yeah, those widows were very experienced."

"No doubt. They lived at the court of love, after all."

Robin grinned in response. “I don't mind using someone… for my pleasure just for tonight."

Robert made a sweeping gesture around the great hall. “You can be with one of them as long as you want them,” he said with a grin. He thought that his friend needed to forget about his tragic love at least for one evening. Robin masked his pain with his common bravado, and he played in Robin's game. At least Robin was willing to be with women, and maybe it would help him.

Robin chuckled softly. “As long as I am not bored,” he corrected.

"Stand up, my little bird Robin. Let's go to Lady Catherine and Lady Constance."

"Oh, this is tempting," Robin whispered into his friend's ear, as lightly as he could, and turned his gaze at Catherine, a smile hovering over his lips. He winked at her and laughed as he glimpsed that she was peeping coyly at him from under her lashes.

"These two women are meek and mild, but passionate creatures."

"They are at our feet, Robert. Their wistful look and coquettish manners betray them."

"Stand up! Hurry, Robin! Hurry!"

"A moment," Robin said as he climbed to his feet.

Leicester laughed, and Robin laughed back. "Let's go to them, my little bird!"

Robin of Locksley spent that night in the arms of Lady Catherine de Mathefelon. Having drunk much wine in the banqueting hall, Robin and Catherine left and soon found themselves in Catherine’s bedchamber. It was a spacious arched chamber, cozy and warm, decorated in an austere and elegant style. The room was white and brown and black, except for a pair of two high-back armchairs made out of red oak. A large walnut bed stood in the corner of the chamber. The walls were whitewashed, and only one wall was hung with brown and black brocade.

Standing next to Lady Catherine, Robin undressed without speaking, revealing, with a shamelessness that matched her own, the strength of his desire for her. A faint amusement crossed his handsome face at the realization of how aroused he was, for he didn’t think that he would want any woman so much and so soon after Marian’s wedding to Guy. But there was no spiritual connection between Robin and her, for he craved only for physical release, and what he felt was a normal reaction of a healthy man to a beautiful young woman. He came very close to her, blocking the light of the fading lamp.

Robin laughed as he saw her eyes widen and heard her breath quicken. She didn’t blush and stared at him in fascination. She was drunk with passion as her eyes took in the curves of his lean body, briefly stopping on the scar at his left side. He was very handsome naked in front of her, a little slender, but she liked slender men. There was something not only charming and alluring in his light handsomeness but also something reassuring and reliable about him, and that attracted her too. The sight of his naked body made her heart pound harder and her blood run feverishly hot.

"Now you." Robin reached out for the edge of her bodice.

"Wait a minute, Robin Hood,” Lady Catherine purred.

Catherine was a miniature young lady, very slim and fragile, but extremely seductive and desirable. Her long light blonde hair shone in sunny splendor, and he liked tangling his fingers into her hair. Glowing with vital energy and casting her seductive spell on men around, she always wore luxurious gowns of whimsical and frank designs in Aquitanian style; she even had gowns with off-the-shoulder sleeves, which she wore rarely, only in special cases, like her date with Robin Hood. Her jewelry was always such that it set off her light hair to perfection.

Catherine began undressing hastily. As she stood before him without her gown, his gaze flicked to her throat, her breasts, and her long legs, and he sucked in a harsh breath. She was exactly what she needed to forget Marian, for she was so different from her – she was blonde-haired and very miniature, a sharp contrast to Marian. The tantalizing image of naked Marian in his arms when she had lain with him on their favorite clearing rose in his fevered brain, and he squelched it ruthlessly.

His eyes gleamed down at her. "Don’t worry. You meet all my requirements.”

A greedy smile curved her lips. “You are gorgeous, Huntingdon.”

Robin stepped swiftly forward, taking Catherine with a rush that lifted her off the ground and gave her no chance to escape from him, crushing her lips beneath his own. His hand snaked around her waist to pull her closer to his hips, the other lifting her leg up, as if opening her to him. She laughed and dug her nails into his back as he effortlessly lifted her and carried her to the bed.

"The Earl of Huntingdon is undoubtedly a passionate man, but he is so impatient and yet so gallant," Lady Catherine declared with a merry laugh.

"You are beautiful. I like you," Robin whispered, his voice husky with desire.

“Did you get this large scar in the Holy Land?” Catherine asked with interest as her hand touched the rough flesh.

Robin brushed her hand away from his side, covering the scar with his palm, as if protecting this place from her. “Don’t touch me here,” he demanded harshly.

She blinked. “I will do exactly as you wish.”

“This is the scar from my last battle in the Holy Land. It was the attack on the king’s camp in Acre when I was wounded, but I managed to save King Richard’s life.”

She smiled knowingly. “Huntingdon, I have heard about your heroic actions on this night. Many people discussed that you saved our king right before he could have been killed and when your own life was fading away.” She looked at him in complete adoration and fascination. “You are a hero! You are the king’s savior! You are the people’s only hope!”

Robin didn’t like the memories of the Saracen attack, but her undeniable adoration fed his ego; he was pleased and proud of himself. “Yes, I am,” he stated with immense self-confidence.

She raised herself on her elbow and kissed him. It was a long, passionate kiss, while her fingers traveled softly through the downy hair upon his chest, tracing the pattern of his muscles.

“Oh, my Lord,” Catherine whispered. Every part of her shook and quivered with desire, craving for his caresses and kisses.

He kissed her again, this time with a hunger that even the pleasures of her mouth couldn't assuage.

He broke the kiss, looking down at her with a wry smile. “What, Catherine?”

Catherine smiled, then let her smile fade. “Huntingdon, I remember you so well. When I watched you at Queen Eleanor’s court in Poitiers so many years ago, I wanted you so much. I was not married at that time yet, and, of course, not widowed, like I am now,” she confessed. “You were such a charming and handsome man. You and your friend Robert were the most handsome men at the court.”

Robin grinned sheepishly. “You are exaggerating.”

“No, I am not.” She traced his jaw line with her finger. “And you know that.”

“Well, I was more a boy than a man then. Maybe I didn’t understand something.”

She was leaning with her head back, eyes closed, her expression dreamy. “You were extremely handsome and so tempting, with such beautiful pale blue eyes, like the clear blue depths of the ocean,” she twittered. “I wanted you so badly. I wanted to be in your arms and kiss the life out of you, such a handsome creature.” Her eyes were alight with desire. “I saw only you, only you, in the crowd of courtiers. Your eyes twinkling with mischief has been haunted me since our first meeting.”

He nuzzled her cheek, then his mouth sought hers, taking it with a savage eagerness that increased his need. “Oh, it was a long time ago,” he said against her lips.

“Do you know what my dream was?”

He giggled, looking down at her with curiosity. “No, I don’t.”

Catherine licked her lips, her eyes gleaming with wistful merriment. "When I saw you at the Queen Mother’s court, I had an incredible dream. I wanted you to put an end to this madness of forcing ladies to marry men whom their parents chose. I wanted you to take me and bring me into the church, to marry me and take me with you to the Holy Land.”

A dark shadow crossed Robin's face. "Catherine," he breathed, "why are you bringing tormenting memories into my life right now?” He sighed. “When I took the Cross, I didn't intend to marry anyone."

She dropped her small hand to his hips. “And are you going to marry someone now, Robin Hood?” She stroked his thighs, slowly, running her fingertips up the smooth skin of his inner thigh.

Robin pulled away from her, staring into the darkness. “No, I am not going to marry anyone.” She mentioned _the very reason of his pain – the loss of Marian to his archenemy._

There was an uncomfortable silence between them.

Catherine touched his cheek. “Forgive me, Robin," she said in soothing tones.

“It is alright.” Robin dragged a deep breath. “Don’t apologize.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing.” He sighed, and a vulnerable expression crossed his face. “Just don’t speak about marriage.”

Catherine nodded wordlessly. She didn’t dare cross the line and dig dipper into the depths of his heart. She only wanted him for herself tonight and then as long as he wanted to bed her. “Robin,” she called him. “I want you so much.” Her hand was stroking the inside of his thigh again, making him ache to feel those sensuous strokes higher up.

Robin swung his gaze to her. His lips twitched, as if he were suppressing a grin. “Then show me how much you want me, Catherine.” He wore a decidedly wicked expression. “Show me that right now.”

Her eyes locked with his, gleaming with desire. “I can take you to Heaven of passion, although you already know what it is, Huntingdon. I know that you had many lovers.”

Robin gave her a haughty smile. “Oh, Catherine, your head is full of so many… things.” A lock of sandy-colored hair fell over his forehead, making him look devilishly handsome.

Catherine smiled. “My head is full of the memories and thoughts about you since the moment I saw you at the court here, in Limassol.” She planted a short kiss on his lips. "You are an amazing man. You can tempt any maiden and any sinister lady. You can seduce even a nun."

"Are all these things important now, my great lady?" Robin said lightly, looking at her with a cheeky grin on his face. "Here I see no one but the two people who are attracted to each another."

Catherine smiled, her hands running over the skin of his back. "Then, Huntingdon, let’s follow our instincts. And since you are a creature I have long desired, I will do this with a great pleasure."

"I will gladly do this, too," he said hoarsely.

"Physical love is a slow death from which one is reborn continually. We should have as much love as we can allow ourselves to have in this meaningless life," she retorted.

"Well, I feel I will be eternally indebted to you for your philosophical lectures."

"Stop talking. Kiss me, Robin Hood," she prompted him to action, her eyes adoring him. "Please kiss me now. Take me now. I cannot wait. I am yours."

His lips hovered temptingly over hers. "I will if the lady asks."

Robin smiled at her, thinking that Catherine was a whore, ashamed of nothing. She was not a proper lady, but she was exactly whom he needed for a short-term liaison. He wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her body melt into his embrace. With an almost animal growl, he crushed her mouth under his once more. Then he kissed the exposed flesh of her neck and shoulders, gently biting her skin and licking it. Her quiver transferred itself to his lips, and he smiled at her lazily.

“I have become Robin Hood’s mistress,” Catherine whispered into Robin’s lips. “It is a great honor.”

Robin chuckled. “Don’t exaggerate,” he murmured. Her words pleased his vain nature that always blossomed in praises and admiration, although the words sounded like a mockery to his ears.

“I am so happy to have you with me here and now,” Catherine said in a throaty voice.

Catherine de Mathefelon started planting a thread of hot kisses along the curve of his jaw and neck. She trailed kisses down his chest, his stomach, his hips, and then the lower parts of his body, doing what only experienced and wanton women did to their lovers. Catherine was a passionate seductress, a tigress in the bedroom. Purring like a she-cat in search of more intimate caresses, Catherine kissed and caressed Robin with her lips and hands. She kissed his entire body with the ardent fervor of a worshipper, giving him physical pleasure and much tenderness, a warmth of heart which, if it was not perhaps love, at least bore some resemblance to an affection of a pretty woman for a handsome man.

They spent the whole night fiercely making love to one another, enjoying pleasant and immoral caresses and endearments, which were unacceptable for a decent noblewoman but usual for expensive courtesans. As Catherine lay in his arms, Robin thought that he was pleased he had taken a lover as he re-paid Marian with the same coin for her betrayal: she was Gisborne's wife and shared a bed with Guy, and he slept with a pretty woman who fancied and admired him.

Then, as Robin looked at his lover's sleeping form, shadowy in the moonlight that leaked into the room through the tall window, he felt nothing, apart from emptiness and pain. He didn't love that lady, like he didn't love many others with whom he had shared his bed during the Crusade, after Marian had broken their engagement, and on the way back from Acre to England. A healthy man, he physically wanted other beautiful women, but he was never emotionally attached to them. Of all the women he slept with no one touched his heart – only Marian succeeded.

Robin suddenly hated Lady Catherine because for an instant he saw Marian in her. Hatred for both Gisborne and Marian pervaded his heart and his mind. He believed that he had hated Gisborne more than he hated Sheriff Vaisey and his tyranny. His hatred for Gisborne was black like a plague and endless like a dark sky. He swore to take his revenge on Gisborne many times over. Clinging to his lover’s warm body like a drowning man catching at a straw, Robin persuaded himself that he was done with Marian and that he would forget her. Yet, he knew that he fooled only himself – he both loved and hated her.

Robin shuddered and went rigid, turning his gaze at the uncurtained window; he could see almost all the room in the moonlight, for the moon had come out from behind the dark clouds. He shuddered again, feeling the same strong, burning, destructive hatred in his heart – he hated Marian, with all his heart, for her betrayal and her lies, but he also loved her. For a moment, just for a moment, he was sure that he hated her more than he had ever loved her. He didn't believe that she had ever loved him if she had married Gisborne after everything they had been through together.

Robin craved to take his revenge on both traitors – Gisborne and Marian. He could easily imagine what he would do; he would do nothing illegal, but it would be a perfect revenge. He would come to England with the king, in triumph and glory, not fearing the sheriff and his puppets, like Gisborne; the Black Knights would be defeated, arrested, and would rot in the dungeons before their execution. The king would undoubtedly reinstate his titles and lands, and he would be able to help his people within the law. With a dark satisfaction, Robin could imagine how he would personally detain Guy and order his men to throw the sheriff’s henchman in a cold, damp dungeon, ignoring Marian's desperate pleas to spare Guy's life and her appeals to the king to pardon Guy.

But there was something else. Robin had to avoid ostensible acts of revenge as it could be fatal to his honorable reputation of a hero. He also doubted that revenge would make him happy, even if he would defeat Guy and have him executed. He was not a man to be satisfied with a useless vengeance, and he also knew that hatred would eventually destroy his heart, like his hatred for Guy, whom he had long blamed for his father’s death, was slowly destroying him. He tried to banish thoughts of revenge from his head but failed. Gisborne would pay for all his sins, Robin took an oath.

Robin awoke after the sun had already risen above the sea, bringing the new day of entertainments and relaxation at the court. As his gaze focused on Lady Catherine de Mathefelon, who snuggled closer to hi, pain permeated his mind, just as it permeated his life. It was the first time in Robin’s life when he awoke in his mistress’ bed, for he usually left a girl in the middle of the night and retired to his bedchamber. But today he didn’t care that he wasn’t alone; it was even better than sleeping in his own cold and lonely bed. When Catherine opened her eyes and smiled at him, Robin felt desire stirring in his loins, and he again used her to forget reality in her arms.

During the next days, Robin’s life whirled in the endless banquets and numerous private meetings with his fellow Crusaders. He was delighted that Lord Sheridan had departed to England; at least he wouldn't have to tolerate the man’s treacherous speeches about the king anymore. Robin and Lady Catherine de Mathefelon lost themselves in their shared ecstasy, and he completely succumbed to temptation, spending night after night with her. A night with an experienced lover helped him unburden himself and alleviate his pain. Robin divided his free time between dashing feasts and interludes with his new lovers in alcoves of dark corridors or in bedchambers.

Much stayed near Robin, trailing behind him like a shadow. Unexpectedly, Robin gave Much some money and told him to buy something for all of them, not forgetting about himself; Robin pointed out that Much needed clothes befitting his new station of a lord. Much went shopping with great pleasure, without hurrying, enjoying the moment; he was simply happy with the opportunity to use a chance and buy something new, but more with Robin's attention to him. The Earl of Leicester accompanied Much on shopping, later making jokes that Much selected all his purchases with all the scrupulosity of a merchant examining precious stones.

Much watched Robin with a scrupulous gaze. He didn't like Robin's positive mood swings and sudden disappearances. He asked Edmund where Robin had gone with Leicester, but the man only shrugged, as though in uncertainty, although he understood very well what Robin was doing and why he was doing that. Edmund didn't disapprove of Robin's amorous escapades because his friend clearly needed a distraction. Robin’s emotional state worried Much, Edmund, and the outlaws very much.

§§§

Every evening, Robin of Locksley spent time with the courtiers in the huge, echoing great hall of the Castle of Limassol. The court life was fascinating and different as compared to the life Robin had led in the forest and the days of the bloody war in the Holy Land. He almost forgot what the court life was like after many years of continuous fighting.

Although he was bored with the ceremonious court protocol, Robin also was stealthily pleased to see and feel the difference between war and peace. He found out that he enjoyed laughs, stories, speeches, and merry toasts, as well as by delicious food and dancing; for the first time in many years, he was as enthusiastic to have a good meal as Much was. He felt as if he were at the height of some childish outburst of joy and lust that he had a chance to live a normal life for some more time before becoming a soldier again.

The temptation was too strong to resist, and Robin tasted sins of the flesh with juvenile eagerness. He didn't care what others thought of his love affairs and some other indiscretions; his virtue was only a distant memory and he could do whatever he wanted with his life and his free time. He didn't pursue his lovers and didn't need to court them as they came to him willingly and some even pursued him. The worship of their own beauty was only equaled by their lusts for the handsome Earl of Huntingdon; Robin used his chance, taking what was willingly offered with delight.

Robin decided to embark on as many love escapades as he could in order to forget Marian’s betrayal. He had always found forgetfulness in intimate relationships with women: he had acted in this manner when he had tried to forget the pain and hurt Marian had caused him by breaking their first betrothal before his departure to Acre; he had also had lovers in the Holy Land when he had being seeking solace in their arms. Of course, Robin also enjoyed magnificent sensations in his body as his lovers worked their magic with their hands and lips touching, teasing, and taunting while he basked in physical pleasure from kisses, caresses, and thrusts. But there was no place for love in Robin’s life, and all that remained was the urgency to forget and dampen the pain tearing his heart apart. The time he spent with his lovers gave him only temporary oblivion, and then a pain returned.

Usually, Robin drank modestly at feasts, except for moments when his pain was too intense and visions of Marian in Gisborne’s arms drove him to the edge; at times he deliberately overindulged himself with wine. In a state of insobriety, Robin had several one-night stands with unknown women, perhaps widows or servant girls. He didn't even ask their names and didn’t inquire about their marital status as they dragged each another into a dark alcove, in a dark corner of the garden, or in a bedchamber. He only asked whether a woman was a virgin or not, and if a lady’s answer was negative, it gave him a green light to act. In the morning, he didn’t remember the faces of his casual lovers.

The Earl of Leicester somehow managed to persuade the desperate Earl of Huntingdon to visit the most expensive and finest brothel in Limassol. They spent the whole night drinking heavily, playing cards, and enjoying a female attention. Robin hired two young Cypriot prostitutes during the same night; his copulating with them was wild and completely immoral. In the morning, Huntingdon and Leicester appeared on the front steps of the castle, standing in a tight, affectionate embrace and singing a song in Occitan which was composed by King Richard himself.

Soon Catherine de Mathefelon was forgotten, although she openly pursued Robin and wanted him back in her bed, enjoying a boisterous chat with him, dancing, and once even kissing him in the great hall, before the eyes of many courtiers. His new mistress was young and beautiful Lady Blanche de Montrond, who also slept with the Earl of Leicester a day ago. Robin entertained two other women; one of those widows was his former lover from Queen Eleanor’s court; another lady was a widow of a French Crusader, King Philippe’s confidant, and chief general. Robin didn't hide his affairs, although he tried to be as discreet as he could, but the courtiers still actively discussed a few of his love affairs.

In the great hall, the outlaws and Edmund of Cranfield watched Robin conversing with a raven-haired lady dressed in a brown silk gown cut indecently low and adorned with diamonds on the front; they were laughing and enjoyed a pleasant conversation for a long time.

"Look, Robin is again with Lady Blanche!" Much exclaimed.

"Yesterday, I came to Robin's room, though it was quite late. I wanted to ask him about the date of our departure to Acre," Little John informed, sighing heavily. "I… stumbled into the well-dressed lady as Robin opened the door and let her go ahead. He called her Lady Philippa."

"Probably, she was Lady Philippa de Lannoy, Lady Isabella of Jerusalem's lady-in-waiting," Much assumed. "I think she is a young French widow."

"I remember Lady Philippa very well," Edmund of Cranfield interjected. "She was besotted by Robin in the Holy Land, and their affair lasted for many months, for more than two years while we besieged Acre. Her husband died at the very beginning of the siege."

Much sniffed. "Exactly. She was very annoying and chased after Robin for a long time."

"And Robin couldn't reject her," John finished.

"Oh, men!" Djaq rolled her eyes.

Will gave a mirthless chuckle. "Robin doesn't lose his time."

Little John shrugged his broad shoulders. "Has Robin always behaved in this manner?"

Much's cheeks turned crimson. "Yes, he has. Women like Robin. In Poitou, when we took the Cross, he had several affairs with Queen Eleanor's ladies-in-waiting; he was hurting after Marian had broken their first betrothal in rage, and he needed a distraction."

"And in the Holy Land?" Will was unusually curious, and the outlaws gave him bewildered glances.

Much shook his head. "Of course," he said with a sour laugh. “On the Crusade, Robin was extremely popular among Queen Berengaria's ladies-in-waiting, as well as Lady Isabella’s ladies, and he met many of them in private.” He paused, watching Robin kissing his lady’s hand. “Sometimes he also… went to… those shameful places–” He broke off, lowering his eyes.

Djaq chuckled, her face flushing; the discussion was unusual and she was curious. "The finest brothels of Acre and the Saracen wonders…" She tilted her head, grinning. “I see where it is going.”

"The Crusaders… praised these places in Acre…" John stammered.

They threw their heads back and exploded with laughter.

"John, I can take you there if you want," Edmund teased. "If you have ever wanted sin, then you should go to brothels of Acre. Saracen women are amazing."

John blushed. "No, thank you. I will never go there."

"You will lose so much," Edmund mocked.

"Oh, Robin didn't go to… these places very often. He had the queen's ladies," Much said, also blushing violently. "Robin also gave me much headache on the way back to England. He was nervous and tried to prepare himself for the meeting with Marian, thinking that she had already been married. Robin… was with many girls, especially when we disembarked in Messina and then in Genoa, even though he was still unwell after his injury he sustained in the king’s defense. As the injury troubled him a lot, we had to stay at Queen Eleanor's court for several weeks for his recuperation; there he had several affairs with the queen's ladies."

Edmund nodded. "Robin says that he likes court in Poitou and is fascinated with Aquitaine."

Much sniffed as he saw Robin kissing Lady Blanche’s hand and then laughing. "Princess Joan, Dowager Queen of Sicily and Countess of Toulouse, paid much attention to Robin; perhaps she even was in love with him. There were rumors that King Richard would give her hand in a marriage to Robin. Yet, the king didn’t offer, and Robin was happy because he would have never proposed to her.”

Princess Joan Plantagenet and Queen Berengaria had stayed with Richard in Limassol and then had sailed to Acre. On the Crusade, Joan had been willing to share her bed with the charming young hero. Robin had been also physically attracted to her, but he hadn’t wanted to sleep with her and destroy his relationship with Richard. For some time, Joan had been obsessed with Robin, trying to seduce him, while he had merely flirted with her, not really intending to cross the line. In the end, the king had strictly prohibited Robin even to look at Joan as a woman and meet with her in private, threatening to strip him of all his titles and send him into exile if Robin had dared tarnish Richard’s favorite sister under the cover of Eastern night. Robin had been puzzled by the king’s harsh reaction, and he had immediately stopped all communication with Joan after that warning.

A wide-eyed Much observed Robin leaning closer to Lady Blanche and whispering something into her ear. "Robin seems to delight in shocking people with his behavior. I don’t like what he is doing. He is shaming himself. He is shaming us. How can he do this?"

Edmund of Cranfield laughed. "Much, it is nothing. Robin doesn't shame himself and us. He disappears after banquets or between interludes when a meal is served, and then he either doesn't come back or appears by in the very end. Nobody sees him with women."

"But we know what he is doing! We are worried about him! He should think of us!" Much grumbled.

"It is not bad that Robin is trying to relax," Djaq opined. "He is trying to put Marian out of his mind, and he naively believes that his love affairs will help him forget her." She smiled sadly. "Soon he will realize that it is a waste of time; then he will feel better without indulging himself into sins of the flesh."

"It is better than thinking about his lost love," Will admitted, his hands squeezing Djaq's hand.

"You are right that Robin will be fed up with his love escapades very soon," Edmund assured them. "He is not a man who truly enjoys changing bedmates every night. His current indiscretions are the direct result of his heartbreak. He acted in the same fashion on the way to Acre, but he quickly stopped, and affairs were replaced with outrageous flirting." He sighed. "And then he succumbed to melancholy."

Much ran his troubled eyes over his friends. "I pray that Robin will come to his senses before we arrive in Acre. Last time, before the Crusade, he needed about four months to stop.” Then his face twisted into fury. "Marian hurt Robin too much! She broke his tender heart! Oh, I hate her – I hate her so much! She had no right to cause Robin so much pain!"

Djaq sighed. “Well, yes, Marian’s betrayal is driving Robin to madness.”

"I know what will happen now," Much said triumphantly. "It is no use deceiving yourself. Now people will say that Robin is a womanizer."

Edmund laughed louder than ever, his lips stretched back in a grin. "Much, no one will say that because this is not about our Robin."

Will chuckled. "Robin has broken hearts of many women, but not deliberately."

"Robin is a ladies man, but not an inveterate womanizer," Edmund said with much seriousness. "People tend to exaggerate the number of lovers a man has. In the same way, they credit the famous Earl of Huntingdon with having affairs with those whom Robin even doesn’t know. Besides, Robin flirts, but it doesn't go any further on most occasions. He also never chases after ladies; he only takes what goes to him willingly, and they are too many willing girls."

"Fine. Fine," Much conceded angrily. "I fear Robin will bring scandal upon himself and his name will be noised all over Outremer, although I agree that he has been rather discreet so far."

Everyone maintained their silence, sighing deeply and thinking. "We should watch Robin. He may do something outrageous in distress," John spoke, breaking the silence.

Djaq nodded. "Maybe."

Robin finished his conversation with Lady Blanche, kissing her hand and whispering some compliments in Norman-French. Then he returned to his seat near the Earl of Leicester and Guy de Lusignan. They started talking about the Crusade, and he growing more and more tired of the conversation. Robin lowered his eyes and smiled as his eyes took in his evening attire – black flat trousers and a dark gray doublet with a high collar adorned with jewelry. He felt strange that he changed his forest garb for a courtier costume, but he didn't mind doing that before again wearing a white Crusader tunic.

From the corner of his eye, Robin watched the guests, often intercepting heated glances of various women, who obviously discussed him and craved to be lavished by his affections. He smiled at them seductively under his long eyelashes, his blue eyes shimmering like two large sapphires in the enticing semi-darkness of the chamber. Robin scanned the room, lingering his gaze on several young ladies, his eyes examining their slender, well-curved forms under damask, velvet and brocade stylish gowns.

Robin emptied a goblet of wine and placed it on the table. He rose to his feet, bowed, and excused himself, stating that he wanted to have some fresh air in the garden. He left the banqueting hall and went outside the castle. He made his way into the depths of the garden, passing benches, large flowering planters, and a trellised arbor to provide shade from the sun in the daytime.

He stopped near a small fountain and sat on a bench, raising his head and gazing up at the sky. The moon was in its last quarter and everything around was bathed in a silvery glow. The sky above southern lands seemed to have countless stars, bright lights offering a man an earthly glimpse of infinity. He had had the same thought when he had been alone in the Holy Land when he had left his tent to spend some time in a small distance from the Crusaders’ camp, in solitude which he had needed so much after bloody battles. He stiffened as his dreary memories assaulted him again tonight.

Suddenly, Robin heard a rustle of skirts and felt a fragrance that evoked memories of moonlit, summer gardens. He turned his head, his eye catching a flash of red color in the darkness. He definitely wasn’t alone there. "Who is here?" he asked in Norman-French.

"How do you think, my most handsome lord in the Angevin Empire?" a female voice spoke, also in Norman-French.

A stunned Robin stopped, his heart beating faster in dazed exhilaration. The young, lovely woman stood right in front of him. She was clad in a stunning red gown with a high neckline, wearing a massive rubies and topazes necklace on her slender neck, her long chocolate hair streaming down her shoulders. She smiled at him seductively, and he was captivated by her bewitching, luminous smile.

In a bizarre twist of fate, Robin saw her as a desirable bedmate for tonight. As the lady approached him and her face was illuminated by the moonlight, he recognized her. She was Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, who successively became Lady of Toron, Marchioness de Montferrat, and Countess de Champagne by her three marriages; currently, she was married to Henry II, Count de Champagne and King of Jerusalem, who was King Richard's nephew and grand favorite.

Robin made a low, graceful bow. "The beautiful Countess Isabella," he greeted.

Her lashes swept down for a moment, and then she raised her head and looked at Robin with a coquetry smile. "The heroic Earl of Huntingdon," she said, her eyes blazing with fire.

"Are you looking for someone here?"

"For you," she said straightforwardly, without any preamble.

He playfully raised an eyebrow. "For me?"

"Yes, milord."

"And why do you need me, my lady?"

She made a step towards him. "How do you think?"

He shrugged, as though in uncertainty. "I don't know."

"I don't know for whom your heart, my lord, is aching, but I can ease your yearning for tonight."

"You are being shamelessly bold, Lady Isabella."

"And why not?" She smiled. "I have always thought that you are a man who takes what he wants. The same is fair to say about me – I take what I want and today I want you."

"What about your husband?" Robin cocked an eyebrow. "He is in the great hall with the guests, and he can easily come here."

"You need not fear that he will come. He must be with Elizabeth, my lady-in-waiting."

Robin laughed. Nothing changed in lives of nobles since he had last been at court before he had been outlawed by Sheriff Vaisey. Loveless marriages still were the backbone of high society, and adultery was as normal as it had always been, especially among French and Norman nobles. She was willing and pretty, and he was going to use his chance.

“Do you really want this to happen between us?” He wanted to make sure they could do that.

“I beg your pardon, milord?” When she took another step to him, lavender scent wafted his way; his nostrils flared to take it in. “I am not an innocent maid, and I am not a priestess or a nun. I want to be with you, and I made my desires clear. I don’t understand why you are still in doubt!”

Robin truly began to think that her behavior was outlandish, but she attracted him too much. "Your husband, King Richard's nephew, is very loyal to my king. Aren't you afraid that he will complain to King Richard if you and I have an affair?" He was genuinely interested what she thought.

She leaned toward him, that enchanting smile flashing again. "He wouldn't dare complain to Richard even if he learns the truth. Besides, he doesn't care about my private life very much," she confided in him. "I was forced to marry Conrad de Montferrat, greatly pressured by everyone, for it was the only way to strip Guy de Lusignan off his kingship of Jerusalem. When Conrad was stabbed by the Hashshashin, I married Henry as I was so taken by his youth and handsomeness that I fell in love with him at first sight. However, soon I realized that it was not love, but lust, and I was again unhappy." Her eyes blazed in ardor. "Affairs are the only thing I can have in my loveless marriage."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"That's just my life, Lord Huntingdon." She veered her gaze to him, smiling at him, and his eyes followed the line of her throat to her breast. "How could I ever dream that today I will meet the dashing Robin of Locksley, the heroic Robin Hood?"

"Sometimes dreams materialize."

"Yes, but rarely."

Robin smiled at her indecency. "And what is your conclusion?"

"I cannot miss my chance tonight."

Robin burst into laughter. "You do amuse me, Lady Isabella. No one could accuse you of being boring." He advanced towards her and enclosed her waist with his arms. "Your husband must be a fool if he doesn't care about your marital faithfulness."

"I also don't care who his lovers are."

He drew a deep, dazzled breath. "Then he won't object if we use our chance today." He leaned forward and captured her lips with his. "For the moment, I have you in my power." He entwined her long dark curls, tumbling freely to her shoulders, around his fingers. "I admire courage and passion for adventure above all else, and you are willing to be very accommodating to me."

He laid his hands possessively on her shoulders and lifted her skirts, his hands caressing her bare legs. Gathering her in his strong arms, he kissed her on the mouth, marveling at how much his body was aroused. He lifted her and she straddled him, her legs around his waist. He carried her to a bench, gently put her on the wooden surface, and sat next to her.

He bent his head down and kissed her, feeling how her hands were expertly unlacing his trousers. The kiss was long and possessive. She tasted the wine, and so did he as they both drank much wine during the evening. Enjoying the exquisite feel of her in his arms, he helped her unlace his trousers and then again lifted her skirts.

Isabella smiled, her lips parted slightly, and she whispered. "Do you want me, Huntingdon?"

An aroused Robin laughed. "Sure."

Robin felt the succulent surface of her lips, full of promise. His body burning with desire, he pulled her hard to him, kissing her again and dipping his tongue between her lips. He felt the gentle touch of her hand on his cheek, sending a thrill through him and simultaneously unnerving him. Pure male instincts took hold of him, and he sank into her body with one powerful thrust. He began a tentative rocking motion and then started moving faster; he didn’t want to kiss her on the mouth and bent his head down, kissing her neck.

She lifted one hand to hold the back of his head, forcing him to look into her eyes. “Lord Huntingdon, I am going to remember this day forever, and I will miss you so much,” she said against his mouth.

“Sorry,” he muttered, for he couldn’t say the same about himself.

Heedless of anything but the strong, magnetic allure of a beautiful woman, with which she held him captive, he felt pleasure and a semblance of liveliness again, even if she was not Marian. He was falling, drifting down to the bottom of the sea, in which this woman had pushed him. The garden, illuminated by the moonlight, was his road to his shelter and he stepped there, blind to everything around him, blind to the whole world, except for his fervent desire for release and his urgent need to forget his pain, so deep that he couldn't contemplate that without a feeling of vertigo.

"Good Lord," Robin panted.

"Huntingdon," Isabella whispered. "Robin…"

He heard her groan his name, but her voice sounded strange and foreign to him. She was not Marian, who would perhaps never be forgotten. But it didn't matter, for she was a woman who wanted him and whom he wanted at that moment, and he didn't care about tomorrow. He surrendered to his instincts and became only a male yielding to the demands of his flesh, and they copulated with the urgency of two people who feared they would never have another chance to mate. He opened his eyes and glanced into her hazel eyes, but he saw sapphire blue eyes – Marian's eyes. His body swelled with desire for release, but his heart was hollow, filled with longing for Marian and her touch.

He was copulating with another man's wife in the garden, on the bench, he realized all at once, and that woman was the wife of King Richard's nephew. Yet, he didn't care who she was because all he needed was a woman to take away his pain and longing for Marian. Through the fog that had shrouded his mind and all common sense, he knew that he made a mistake, and that acknowledgment filtered into his consciousness, but it was too late – he couldn't stop.

"My handsome bird," Isabella murmured, kissing his warm lips.

They reached physical release. The pleasure was so intense that it was almost a pain, and they gave a loud groan. Isabella studied Robin’s face, and she was surprised to see the frightening blankness in his eyes. Then Robin glanced away and stiffened in her embrace, forcing himself not to cry Marian's name. Although he certainly received his pleasure from their intimacy, he felt nothing in the aftermath: only emptiness and pain filled his bleeding heart after it was over.

Robin cast an apologetic glance at Isabella. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

Isabella looked disappointed. “Huntingdon, it was magical! You are a sorcerer in love matters! I will never forget this night!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him to silence him.

§§§

Suddenly, Robin and Lady Isabella heard a familiar voice, and Isabella fell away from Robin, the heat of her body fading from his. Their gazes fixed on the man in the end of an alley: he was walking towards them, his gait unsteady, and he was obviously drunk. Isabella cried out in horror and Robin sighed as they recognized the man. There was no need to see his features for identification – he was Isabella's husband, Count Henry de Champagne, or Henry I of Jerusalem by his marriage to Isabella.

Isabella quickly came to her feet, repairing her bodice and shaking the wrinkles from her gown. Robin also rose from the bench and arranged his trousers, listening to the man's footsteps.

"My husband," she blurted out.

Robin looked at her and sighed. Her eyes were wide with fright, and she blanched. Even under the cover of the darkness, she looked as white as death as blood had drained from her face.

"He is very drunk," Robin stated matter-of-factly.

Henry de Champagne stopped several steps from Robin and Isabella. "What a pretty picture!" he cried out. "I have to confess that I didn't expect the chivalrous Earl of Huntingdon and my dear wife to stoop so low as to make love on a bench." He laughed uproariously. "Isabella, I must say that with your rosy cheeks and your plump figure, you look appetizing. I may begin feeling hungry all of a sudden, like Huntingdon."

"Henry, please stop talking. You are drunk," Isabella implored.

Henry ignored his wife's words. His spleenful gaze was piercing Robin, and he laughed venomously. "Have fun, ladies and gentlemen. Here you can witness the most preeminent love affair you could ever see in the world – the irresistible Earl of Huntingdon and my beautiful wife Isabella are lovers! Come here and look at them! Shudder and tremble! So many women fall in love with the legendary hero of all times and nations – Robin Hood! My wife is only one of them! She is his whore!"

Isabella lifted her hand to her mouth, terrified. "Henry, please stop this spectacle."

The cuckolded husband didn't listen to his adulterous wife’s pleas. "Come, ladies, gentlemen, look at them! Come here! Look and remember!"

"Sire, what are you doing? What do you want to achieve by your… erm… hasty and irrational actions? If you want to talk to me, I am at your service." Robin didn't know what else he could say.

"And my wife is at everyone's service for a night’s tryst," Henry replied slowly. "I am sorry that I disturbed you, my lovebirds. The wild beasts are subdued, Gods are content – King Richard's grand favorite is sleeping with the wife of his king's nephew and another favorite. They fuck in the garden, afraid of being caught," he taunted, laughing.

"Please, Monsieur de Champagne, calm down. Don't be a fool and don't scream. Think about your wife's reputation. You are too drunk and don't understand what you are doing," Robin said quickly, a touch of amusement mingled with anger in his tone. "We should leave right now."

Isabella nodded. "I agree with Huntingdon."

"Thank you, milady." Robin forced a smile. "Monsieur Henry, you should go to your chambers and sleep. You will have a terrible headache tomorrow, but you will likely remember nothing. Have a good night." He again bowed as deeply as he could, and then he strode away.

De Champagne turned furious, swearing in French. "The chivalrous Earl of Huntingdon in shining armor!" he shrilled. "You seduced my wife, and you will pay for that!"

Count de Champagne roared as a wave of indignant rage surged forward. Henry drew his sword and dashed after Robin. Looking what was going on, Isabella hurried to Henry, trying to stop him. As he heard Henry's words, Robin paused and swung around to face King Richard's nephew.

"I demand satisfaction," Henry shouted in ringing tones; he pointed his sword at Robin. Once more blind rage gushed through him. "Your sword must answer for you."

Robin directed his icy gaze at the gesticulating man. "My sword is at the service of the king, sire. I never fight with an inebriated man."

Growling and cursing, Henry de Champagne lunged at Robin of Locksley. "Fight with me, you coward!"

Robin swiftly unsheathed his scimitar and parried a blow. Isabella screamed at the vision of the duel and cast a terrified look at Robin, who was very nearly as white as she herself was. Robin didn't want to fight with Henry, but it appeared that he had to defend himself from the drunken man; he said something to allay the fuming Norman, but the man didn't hear him and continued lunging at Robin. Robin parried and ducked, not attacking and only persuading the other man to stop.

His eyes still fixed on his opponent as he blocked a blow, Robin noticed several people running towards them. Among them, he recognized the Earl of Leicester and Guy de Lusignan. Much, Edmund, and Little John trailed behind de Lusignan and several other courtiers. Several Crusaders heard Henry's speech and marched to the place where the sensational scene was playing out. Soon the small crowd gathered around the quarreling spouses and the unfortunate lover.

"My wife cuckolded me with the Earl of Huntingdon," de Champagne complained as he lunged at Robin who sidestepped and parried, trying not to harm the madman.

De Lusignan smirked. "What do we have here? Oh, my goodness! King Richard's favorites are fighting! What a spectacle! Great, this is just great!"

The courtiers hurried to the place of the duel. Their dull existence on Cyprus was undermined with the shocking news of the duel between King Richard's nephew and the king’s grand favorite.

"Huntingdon is amazing! So much passion and spirit in one man!" Lady Catherine de Mathefelon cried out. "Today Lady Isabella, but eight days ago I was in his bed."

"Thanks to God that he is not trying to seduce our mistress," Constance de Toucy added.

"Oh, Huntingdon is such a stud," Lady Catherine continued.

"Shut up, you little fools," the Earl of Leicester growled as he paused near the two women.

"What is going on here? What else?" de Lusignan asked as he approached the group.

"Nothing. Two whores are discussing the incident. Nothing more," Leicester snapped, casting a disdainful glance at the two ladies and heading to de Champagne and Robin.

"Lord Leicester is right, Catherine. Be quiet," Constance recommended.

Catherine giggled in her palm. "You don't understand, Constance, and you lost a lot. Robin Hood is very passionate and extremely virile," she whispered into her friend's ear.

Constance laughed. "Oh, believe me, I know what you mean. Don't forget that I was Prince John's mistress. And last week the Earl of Leicester was in my bed."

The Earl of Leicester looked at the two gossiping ladies with unhidden contempt. Then he advanced forward and froze in several steps from the fighting lover and husband. As he himself was accustomed to such scandals, for he had been caught with his lovers in delicate and provocative situations in the past, Leicester laughed and threw a sympathetic glance at Robin. "Unlucky you are today, my little bird," he murmured to himself.

"Oh, shame, shame. Oh, Robin… What have you done?" Much looked shocked.

Little John shook his head in bewilderment. "Oh, a bad time... to be with a lady…"

"Oh, shame, shame, but thank you very much for entertainment," de Lusignan mocked.

Much looked as though he himself had been terribly compromised, not Robin. A deep blush pinked his cheeks. "Robin, stop! Do something! Stop them!" he appealed.

"Oh, how unlucky, unlucky," Edmund said in singsong tones.

More and more people gathered to watch the most outrageous scene they had seen in the past years. There was a sea of scandalized faces, whispers, women's stifled laughter, and finally a silence so complete and so terrifying that they could hear the distant sound of waves splashing to the shore.

In the end, the Earl of Leicester and the Earl of Middlesex separated Robin and Henry, and one of the Crusaders pinioned the arms of Count de Champagne who continued screaming and struggling with his captors. De Champagne continued cursing Robin and his wife; then he vomited on the tunics of the Crusaders and was knocked out by the Earl of Leicester.

All eyes were glued to Robin, and his cheeks turned crimson with embarrassment. He wasn't fully experienced in situations and found himself at a loss. He was trapped in a dreadful situation, for it was a flagrant scandal. Robin was known as a ladies man, but he was always discreet in his liaisons with other women at court or in the Holy Land. He had never been caught in a dark hall, an alcove, or a corridor, copulating with a married noblewoman of a high social standing.

Guy de Lusignan commanded to drag the unconscious Henry de Champagne back to the castle. De Lusignan declared that he would talk to Henry about his abhorrent and discreditable behavior tomorrow and in private. To ease tension, de Lusignan pointed out that everyone had to forget about the quarrel in the garden and that he himself didn't think that something unusual had happened.

De Lusignan insistently asked Robin to be more discreet next time when he would be with his lovers, and Robin received de Lusignan's words with a kind of relief. At least he didn't start a scandal and didn't attack Henry de Champagne. Wives cheated on their husbands every day, and he didn't do something unique and wrong tonight. Yet, he felt ashamed of himself and repented that he had agreed to sleep with Isabella of Jerusalem, fearing that King Richard would learn about his misadventures in Limassol. He was burning with shame at the thought of what had just transpired in the garden and what his king would think of him.

The crowd began to disperse, and now only Robin's friends surrounded him. In the blue-black sky, the moon shed its calming light on the magic gardens embroidered with flower beds and sequined with pools of dark green water, the surface of which glided silver swans.

The Earl of Leicester put a comforting hand on Robin's shoulder. "Robin, it was quite an evening." He smiled. "Well, for me it is not the first time to be discovered by a jealous and drunk husband. It will be alright, Robin. They will forget about the case very soon."

"Yeah, Robin." Edmund of Cranfield shook his head. "You should be more cautious."

"Oh, Robin, why did you do that? This lady is a married woman!" Little John reprimanded, shaking his head in disapproval. He felt relief that Will and Djaq didn't watch that.

Much looked horrified. "Robin, how could you do that… in the garden… and on a bench? I warned you that his behavior would lead us to a great scandal! Adultery is a sin – you slept with another man's wife today! Lady Isabella is married to King Richard's nephew!”

Robin nervously clutched the collar of his doublet. “I don’t care who her husband is!”

Much shook his head. “You should care, Robin! King Richard will be shocked! You drank too much wine today. Instead of drinking, you should have eaten more," he grumbled. "I knew that he would do something bad here! I had to keep an eye on him! We cannot trust him! He should always be tracked down and watched when he disappears! We cannot trust him!"

"Shut up!" Robin started pacing the garden and came to an abrupt halt directly before Much and Little John, his eyes roaming over their faces.

"We cannot shut up! It is good that Will and Djaq are not here! You are shaming us!" Much growled, his lower lip trembling. "Well, I say us. I mean you are doing this to yourself, Robin, but we also suffer."

"I am fed up with your lecturing. I am a grown-up man, and I know what I am doing," Robin spoke in a rough tone after a moment. "What happened today was a pure accident; it was the first time in my life and I truly regret it." He sounded oddly detached, yet angry. "Every day and every night innumerable women and men at court deceive their spouses with all the ease in the world, and the only time I try it, lightning strikes. No luck! And the worst is that my friends lecture and annoy me when they should be more understanding and more compassionate."

Much caviled at his best friend's behavior. "Robin, she is another man's wife! How could you do such a despicable thing? How could you "

"Yeah, I prefer to be with widows, but I have to say that it is not the first time when I am having an affair with a married woman." Robin raised his hand in an imperious gesture to be silent. "I had to forget Marian! I needed to do something to forget! Why don't you understand me?"

"Robin, we understand you," Little John said, offering a fatherly smile.

"Thank you, John," Robin responded, but his tone was cold.

Much glanced at Robin, worriedly. "Robin, it is very serious. You are not yourself after… Marian's marriage to Gisborne, but you must let her go. The king is waiting for us in Acre and he is in danger, and what is Marian to you if the king and England can't be saved? Concentrate on King Richard! He loves you so much and he needs to be saved again!"

"Much, please shut up," John barked.

"The king and England will be saved. And never, you hear me, never doubt that I won't save my king," Robin fumed, his eyes piercing their faces. "You know something? If you want to help me… why don't you start right now? Go away." He put a hand over his eyes, as if he were shielding himself from them.

When nobody moved, Robin sighed heavily and, keeping his dignity to the very end, theatrically bowed to everyone and then made his exit without haste, looking ahead, his head high.

"Robin, where are you going? You must listen to us!" Much reproached.

"Go away! Leave me alone!" Robin shouted. He didn't turn around and kept going.

"Leave him, Much. He needs to clear his head," Leicester countered. Like Much, he knew Robin too well, but Much and the other outlaws were not skillful at reading the sophisticated mind of Robin who shunned everyone out of his inner world. Being quite similar to Robin in many aspects and having quite many features of character in common, Leicester could predict Robin's reactions and read his friend's thoughts. He knew when they had to let Robin be alone tonight.

"Leave him be," Edmund agreed. "He will be alright."

Much's eyes turned wider. "But… but…"

"Much, he needs solitude. He will calm down," Leicester said.

"He will feel better on his own tonight," John agreed.

"Robin caused a great scandal! It is such a shame! They will never forget about this ignominious incident! They will always discuss Robin! The king will learn about it and will be angry with Robin! It is awful! What Robin did is unforgivable!" Much grumbled.

"You have nothing to fear, Much. The king has many other serious things to worry about. He won't be as angry as you expect," Leicester intervened. "I bet that in a month or two another scandal will replace today's one on the lips of scandalmongers."

Robin walked away into the darkness for a long while, not knowing the direction. Then, more dead than alive, feeling unnaturally weak, his knees trembling, he sank onto a nearby bench somewhere in the garden; he was exhausted, his face as white as snow. He gazed across the vast green gardens full of flowers. Despite the darkness, he could still see that there were flowers everywhere around him. He could even say that some of the flowers were pale, fragrant laurels, huge silvery-pink peonies, pure white lilies and roses, and red and white roses.

"Dear heart! The Earl of Huntingdon in the flesh!" a melodic female voice came from behind Robin.

Robin jumped to his feet and spun, his eyes searching for the source of the voice. "Who is here?"

A slender figure emerged on the road. "Does it really matter, Robin Hood?"

The lady's figure was silvered with the moonlight. Robin looked at her with a too-intensive gaze, his eyes taking in her face that was heartbreakingly lovely in the moonlight even in the distance. The lady wore a luxurious velvet gown with a low square-cut neckline, a long brocade train, an ample skirt with several layers of a laced design, and wing sleeves. The gown was a spectacular shade of purple silk. An oval cut diamond and amethyst necklace adorned her neck, and the pair of the matching earrings featured her ears. Diamonds and amethysts were carefully weaved throughout her long red-gold hair.

Robin's heart hammered so hard that it was bursting out of his chest at the sight of the lady's face. He pressed his hand to his heart as if to still its beating. Standing beside her, he held his breath – her beauty touched his sensibility and moved his more delicate feelings. Robin saw many beautiful women before, but he had never seen someone so vibrant, so vividly compelling, and so mysterious. She was the second woman in the world – after Marian – whose appearance made him speechless.

The lady was breathtakingly beautiful, well-curved and graceful, with her high cheekbones and her fair, flawless skin, her straight little nose, and her enticingly curved full mouth. Her red-gold hair was long and glossy. Almond-shaped violet eyes dominated her heart-shaped face. The color of her eyes was so rare that Robin believed he had never seen it before. Her beauty was classic, her face like that of a Greek or Roman goddess; here features were cold and enigmatic in an unusual way, and it seemed as if there were an aura of fatality and doom around her.

She held Robin's scrupulous and intensive gaze. The way she carried herself commanded deep adoration and complete surrender. It was not the first time Robin witnessed similar superiority and pride on high-ranking nobles, but there was something more in the lady. There was an aura of natural regalness around her. With her cold mimic, she looked like a cold queen, if not for her violet eyes with a dangerous, wicked gleam that undoubtedly seduced and charmed all men and women.

She smiled with a slow, captivating smile. "If I were in your shoes, Lord Huntingdon, I would always be afraid that some band of scandalized nobles might come leaping out of hiding in the dark garden and condemn two lovers for unforgivably indecent behavior."

An impressed Robin smiled with a cheeky, charming smile. "What a treasure I find after a little scandal," he said admiringly, his gaze feasting on her. "I swear to Heaven, there was never a woman more beautiful than you. Never." Yet, it was a lie because Marian had the same effect on him, but he didn't intend to reveal all his secrets to the beautiful stranger.

His heartfelt sentiment trickled down her spine like a tear, but she remained silent and watched him with her glowing violet eyes sparkling with mischief and curiosity and silent laughter. "Does Robin Hood want to have another scandalous love affair tonight? Wasn't that enough that he had a liaison with Lady Isabella of Jerusalem and several other ladies in the past days?"

Robin grinned sheepishly. "Actually, not many ladies were at my feet here."

She gave a laugh. "Really, milord? Every lady, a married or unmarried one, was at your feet, and you know that. Just don't pretend that you have no clue how women feel about you. You like using your charms on women. You love when everyone admires and loves you. This love makes you thrive and feel alive." She laughed again. "Robin Hood is a true charmer and a ladies man. Lady Isabella and Lady Catherine were only two of many ladies besotted by the Earl of Huntingdon and wishing to spend at least one night of passion and lust with the hero."

She knew that Catherine de Mathefelon was Robin's lover because Catherine and Constance were her ladies-in-waiting, but Robin didn't need to know about that.

"My lady, my compliments seem to have frightened you more than I thought. I am sorry." Robin accepted her challenge and laughed. She was taunting him, but he liked her playful and bold manner of leading a conversation. Marian would have never dared touch some intimate and frank topics!

She let a second slip by before she answered in a sweet, shy voice. "Perhaps I am pleased. Perhaps I am scared. Maybe I am unaffected by your charms. Who knows?"

Robin studied at her closely. "Who are you?"

"Just Melisende."

"Melisende," Robin murmured, savoring the taste as he rolled the name around on his tongue.

"That's my name." She met Robin's heated gaze, who took immediate possession of her senses by the sheer force of his personality.

His lips curled seductively. "You must be a high-ranking noblewoman."

"Maybe, sire." She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with amusement and jocosity.

"You won't tell me who you are, will you?"

She laughed. "All in due time."

"Where are you heading from Limassol?"

"Are you always so curious, Robin Hood?"

An exhilarated Robin grinned at her. "Almost always if I am interested in my companion."

"Oh, I see, I see."

"Why didn't I see you here last week?"

"I was in the seclusion of my chambers, Lord Huntingdon."

"Why? Were you ill?"

"I was unwell, but I am alright now." She laughed. "What are you trying to prove, the lord of Sherwood? Your charms are irresistible, but not everyone should be affected."

"I am not trying to prove anything, my lady," he said with a roguish smile. "If I wished to seduce you, I would act differently."

She cocked her head. "And how?"

Robin smiled. "You are bold beyond any measure. I leave it to you to decide whether I should show you how I usually tempt a lady whom I like."

"That's of small importance to demonstrate that. I have already witnessed the effects of your charms on Lady Isabella of Jerusalem."

"By no means, you couldn't see everything because we were alone there," Robin corrected. "You could see only the end when Henry de Champagne came."

She bit her bottom lip. "Oh, I meant the final effects of your charms – scandalous glory."

He feigned hurt on his face. "Did I really cause a scandal today? You wounded me in my heart!"

"I think you are capable of doing everything."

A veil of sadness passed over his face as he dropped his gaze, his vivacity gone. "Believe me, my lady, that there are things that I cannot do and have, even if I wish," he parried.

"There are always things that we cannot do and have." She smiled heartily, and he sensed that within her proud heart there was much tenderness. “Such is life.”

Robin regarded her with a look of astonishment that was a masterpiece of gracious arrogance as well. "I love to see the way you look at me, my beautiful stranger. If a woman looks at a man so, she inspires him with courage and pride to conquer the world."

The lady laughed at him. "I don't require that you become another Alexander the Great, milord. But I am happy that I inspire you that way." She sank into a deep curtsey. "It is rather late now, and I want to retire for the night. Don't offer to accompany me back to the castle. I know the way back."

Robin was momentarily too stunned to speak and swallowed hard as he looked at her. She was not simply beautiful, but extraordinarily beautiful. Apparently, she was an educated and rich noblewoman, for her clothes and speech betrayed her high standing. He suspected that all men were smitten with her and that troubadours sang many lyric songs about her beauty, without flattery.

Obviously, she was a Norman girl, not a Saxon one. He thought that he had already met her in the past, perhaps, at Queen Eleanor's court in Poitou. When he had last been there, on the way from Acre to England, he hadn’t met this lady, but he could have seen her there earlier when he had taken the Cross in Poitou and then had left for the Crusade. Yet, many years passed since then, and the girl was young, looking no older than twenty years old. Maybe he had met her at royal court either in London or in Aquitaine when she had been very young, Robin mused.

Somehow, under her extremely intense gaze, he managed to ask. "Will I ever see you again?"

She tossed her head and laughed. "Perhaps," she said briefly, knowing that he would see her much sooner than he expected.

Robin bowed to her. "Until then, the beautiful Lady Melisende," he said with a smile.

She smiled with an oddly familiar smile, cold and glamorous and enchanting. He glanced into her eyes and was stunned with a wicked gleam of amusement and playfulness in her eyes, so familiar and so mysterious at the same time. With all his heart, he sensed, not for the first time, that he had already seen the same smile and the same gleam on someone’s face.

"Until then, Robin Hood," she said softly.

Robin struggled to take hold of rich and deep emotions that the beautiful lady stirred in his heart, at bay, controlled and subdued. He watched her slender figure pass beneath one of the archways and then disappear into the darkness. For some time, Robin wandered aimlessly in the garden, feeling that he was very lazy to come back to his bedchamber and enjoying the freshness of warm night. He decided to return to the palace only when he remembered that it was his last night on Cyprus.

As he lay in his lonely bed, Robin was thinking of the mysterious Lady Melisende. Amazingly, only one encounter chased away his bad memories about Marian and Gisborne. He didn’t feel as lonely as he had felt since he had left England months ago. His curiosity and venturesome spirit concentrated on this woman. The lady’s beautiful name – Melisende – was rather rare, and its sound was as tender and melodic as like a soft touch of a breeze on skin. Though he tried very hard, Robin couldn’t remember anyone with this name who could have traveled to the Holy Land. Yet, there was something familiar in the lady: her red-gold hair vaguely reminded Robin of someone whom he knew very well.

Then thoughts of Lady Melisende slipped from his mind that again traveled to Lady Marian of Knighton. Trembling all over, Robin climbed out of the bed and came to the night table where a full decanter of red wine stood. He drank several goblets of wine, hoping to find relief and forgetfulness in the tart taste of red liquid which he instinctively compared with blood – Gisborne’s blood. Sighing heavily, he returned to the bed and covered his whole body, even his face, with a silk sheet, as if he were looking for a shelter from pain in a cocoon.

Robin asked himself over and over again why Marian had chosen Gisborne over him. It was a sheer madness to choose a traitor to England and King Richard and the people’s enemy over him, the king’s honest and loyal subject and the people’s hero. He blamed only Marian for her vile betrayal, not himself, not wishing to analyze his own mistakes in their tumultuous relationship. He knew that he had left her and had gone to the Holy Land for five long years, but he had returned to England and to her. Robin didn’t understand that Marian still lived in fear that he could again abandon her out of his almost fanatical loyalty to the king. He had no idea that his constant talk about King Richard, his loyalty to him, and his firm commitment to protect the king and to sacrifice everything for the man not only infuriated Marian but also let her believe that his love for the king was superior to his love for her.

Though Robin had many love affairs and broke hearts of many women, he still didn't understand very well how a mind of an intelligent woman worked. He underestimated the significance of any woman's fear to be abandoned by her beloved and her natural desire to be more important than everything and everything else. Marian was a woman, and she didn't wish to share Robin with the king, which had pushed her to marry Gisborne, hoping that she could take the first place in Guy's heart. If Robin were wiser and more mature in private life, he would have understood what could have pushed Marian to Guy. If Robin didn’t prefer to hide his true emotions, he would have been able to explain to Marian the reasons for his loyalty to King Richard – his deep affection for the king; and he would have been able to assure her that he hadn't intended to leave her again, unless he was forced to do that.

Robin was _England’s man through and through, a man of honor and duty_ , and he was likely to place duty above love if he had no other choice; he could never ignore duty to the king and the country. His heart couldn’t belong to only one woman as it belonged to England, his king, his beloved, his friends, and his peasants; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been Robin Hood and Robin of Locksley. Robin would have never abandoned Marian again and betrayed his love for her unless the future of England or the king's life was at stake; yet, if he had to save England and the king, he would have left her to fulfill his mission, even if his actions hurt himself and his beloved a great deal. _The loyalty to England was in Robin’s blood_ , and a woman who loved him had to accept that or stay away from him.

Sleep claimed Robin only at dawn. Next time he awoke around midday. After short and late breakfast, he began packing things as they planned to sail from Limassol in the afternoon. Robin was bewildered that he didn’t feel as desperate as he had felt only one evening before, for the memory of Lady Melisende awoke feelings of delicacy and relief in the depths of his heart. Robin didn’t have time to find Melisende again, but he felt that it wasn’t their last meeting. In several hours, Robin and his friends left Cyprus, taking the direct route to Acre; the shores of the Holy Land lay somewhere over the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marian finally surrenders to Guy, to the great pleasure of Guy fans, I believe. Yet, Robin Hood's shadow still stands between Marian and Guy. Now try to guess whether Marian will forget Robin and fall for Guy, but I bet you know that it is not easy to get over Robin. Guy also understands that Marian is the Nighwatchman and he feels betrayed. As you can probably predict, they will have a clash soon.
> 
> Robin is heartbroken and devastated. He spends his time indulged in relaxation, friendly meetings and joyful entertainment before becoming a soldier again. Robin takes lovers because he needs to forget Marian and thinks that random love affairs can help him to achieve that. Many men do the same in real life. I never considered Robin a womanizer and a debauchee, but he surely is a ladies man and loves female company. I think the portrayal of heartbroken Robin in this chapter is rather close to reality.
> 
> I promise that Robin will feel better soon: he will have a good surprise in his private life and it will happen in the nearest future. Robin had an unexpected encounter with a beautiful lady in the garden. Maybe you have a guess who she can be. This lady will play an important role in this story.
> 
> Well, I think we needed some scandal and drama for Robin Hood. Robin's desperate attempts to forget Marian should have led him into trouble or scandal and it finally happened. This scandal in the garden will make Robin more conscious of his behavior. I don't put any character, even Robin whom I dearly love and admire, on a pedestal. Actually, I like that positive characters, like our heroic Robin, are flawed. Weaknesses make heroes, like Robin Hood, more real and more human.
> 
> I will use real historical personalities describing the king's entourage, court life, and Robin's life in the Holy Land. Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, was Richard's grand favorite during the Third Crusade and thereafter, always at the king's side and in the highest favor. Richard and Leicester were inseparable on many occasions. Here Leicester will be presented as Robin's close friend.


	7. A Land of Death

**Chapter 7**

**A Land of Death**

Robin of Locksley stood on the deck of the ship, his eyes taking in the views of the port of Acre. The shores were yellow, almost pale, and there were only a few palm trees dotted here and there. His eyes took in the thick stone walls of the city, strong and formidable, the minarets and towers built by the Knights Templar and the Hospitallers. His gaze fixed on the Accursed Tower, the highest point in the walls, a right-angled corner in the northeastern salient. There were no siege machines, catapults, and trebuchets outside the walls, like during the long years of the siege. The picture before his eyes was painfully familiar, and he felt as though he had never left Acre.

He thought back to the bloody siege of Acre, the major victory of the Third Crusade. The Crusaders had spent many months surrounded by Saladin’s large armies, and it had been impossible to arrive in the city by land or by sea. As food stock had been limited, the soldiers had starved; dead bodies had been burnt to ashes or had been buried in unmarked graves in the desert. Robin, like many Crusaders and King Richard himself, had fallen ill with a recurrent fever, spending a month incapacitated.

Many times, siege machines had broken holes through the walls of Acre. However, Saladin’s army had attacked the city after every breach, giving the garrison enough time to repair the damage. When a sufficiently large breach had been created in the walls at last, the garrison of the besieged city had surrendered, and the Crusaders had entered the city, taking the Muslims prisoners. Robin couldn’t think about the battle of Acre without a shudder: it was difficult to remember bloody slaughter when during one day he himself had killed as many people as he had killed before.

Even the views of the walls of Acre resurrected in Robin’s mind the visions of countless tan-skinned faces of the Saracens whom he had killed in the Holy Land. He put his hands to his ears, as if he were trying to silence the voices of the dead that blamed him for taking their lives and depriving them of a chance to have a family and home. He shut his eyes to block the images resurfacing in his head, but ghosts of the past chased after him even in his mind. He saw himself charging into battle, passing by corpses and writhing, half-dead men, and he imagined that the ominous music of death played in the background, as if indicating that someone was going to die soon. Robin’s head was spinning, as if he were in a thick fog of death.

Robin opened his eyes and his hands went to his sides. The red music of death still sounded in his ears, but at least he no longer imagined that he was on the battlefield. He inhaled and exhaled sharply, suddenly feeling disgusted with the fetid, lingering odor of death and blood in the air. Death was everywhere – in the laughter of the sailors on the ship, in the blue water shimmering in the rays of the sun, in the fortresses of Acre, and in myriad acres of the sandy dunes that stretched many miles to the south from Acre. Death was staring at Robin from all sides, and he felt as if he had been incarcerated in the prison of the Tartarus.

 Trying to loosen the grip of devastating emotions, Robin remembered the events that followed the capture of Acre. Duke Leopold of Austria had left shortly after quarreling with Richard: as the surviving leader of the German Imperial contingent, he had wanted to have the same position as King Philippe and King Richard had, but his demands had been rejected and his flag had been torn from the rampart. Soon, Philippe had also departed from Acre to settle pressing issues in France. As a result, only Richard had remained in command of the Crusader army.

King Richard and his army had gone to the south where the army had been attacked by Saladin’s men in near Arsuf. They had been significantly outnumbered, but the king had effectively coordinated counterattack and had defeated the enemy. Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Leicester, and Henry de Champagne had become the heroes of the battle, but Robin hadn’t been pleased with the minutes of crimson glory he had experienced on that day, inwardly mourning for those whose lives he had taken then. After the battle of Arsuf, the coastal area of the southern Palestine, including the port of Jaffa, were under the control of Christians.

Later King Richard had been unable to restrain his overconfident knights hungry for glory, who had voted for an immediate march on Jerusalem. Against his better judgment, the king had led his army towards Jerusalem. They had marched through the desert, suffering from the bad weather and the lack of food supply, and had finally retreated back to the coast. The army had returned to spend the late autumn and the winter in Acre, where, in November 1191, Robin had been almost mortally wounded by Guy of Gisborne in the fateful Saracen attack and had been sent home by the king.

Robin didn’t want to be in the Holy Land. When he left Acre with Much after Gisborne had stabbed him, he believed that he had been done with war. Yet, he had come to Acre again. The first time Robin had gone to the Holy Land to achieve glory on the battlefield and to his duty to the king. Now everything was different: he was here only out of his loyalty to the king.

Robin sighed grievously. His eyes were slightly moist, dark with emotion. His senses were assaulted by the tragic memories of war, and for a moment, Robin turned away from the views of Acre, blinking back the tears from his eyes, a complex wave of emotions threatening his usual iron control. He was alive – it was a day for life, not death – but it mattered nothing because a part of his heart had already died during the years of his service in the king’s private guard. Maybe it was God’s will that he was being tormented by his inner demons – it was his punishment for all the killings he had committed in the Holy Land.

Robin felt a hand on his shoulder, and he swung his gaze to the man who dared interrupt his solitude. “Much,” he said, smiling slightly.

“How are you, Robin?” Much asked, concerned.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I know that it is hard to be here.”

Robin blinked tears, but fresh tears rose in his eyes, and through a glittering mist he saw the outlines of Acre. “It is very hard. I committed many unholy deeds in these lands, for God, as I believed, and for our king.” His voice was shaking. “I killed so many people that I cannot count numbers. I often think that my skills with a bow and a sword are not a blessing – they are a curse.”

“No, Robin, you must not blame yourself for what we did in the Holy Land. All these deaths are not your fault. This is the same as blaming yourself for surviving on the Crusade.”

“I can blame myself and I must,” Robin protested in a cutting voice.

Robin swiveled, intending to leave, but Much held out his arms to him, trying instinctively to hold him back. Much’s eyes were full of tears as well, like Robin’s.

Much shook his head, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Don’t go.” His voice was low and pleading.

“What?” Robin brushed away tears that trickled down his cheek.

Much glanced into Robin’s eyes, his own eyes ablaze. “You are Robin of Locksley! This name means everything! You are strong, and you will be alright. You do things others cannot even imagine. You saved the King of England and England so many times! You sacrificed everything for England and our liege, and no one else could do it! You helped so many most humble people! You are the strongest man I have ever met!”

Tears sprang into Robin's eyes. “You are wrong, my friend. I am not as strong as you are.” He smiled sadly. “You are stronger than me, and one day you will understand that.”

Much sighed heavily. He looked into Robin’s eyes, thinking that his former master had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen – kind, deep, gracious and sincere eyes. And then a thought struck him: since their return from the Holy Land, there always was something sad in Robin’s eyes, even though he flashed his cheeky smiles and spoke passionate speeches about free Englishmen, behaving as if nothing could touch him. The same sadness was in Much’s gaze, mingled with bitterness and hollowness if he failed to hide that.

Robin thought that Much was a simple man, but he was mistaken: Much had always known that the Crusade had a profound effect on his former master. Now, looking at Robin, with tears in his eyes, Much realized again that his friend’s usual insolence was just a mask hiding his worries and fears. Robin put his mask off so rarely, but now Much could see his friend for who he really was – a young, good man who had already seen more horrors than other men in entire life, but who remained, nevertheless, compassionate and idealistic and able to fight for what he believed in.

Much hugged Robin tightly. “Oh, Robin! You will be alright. We all will be fine. We will win.”

His heart beating faster, his spirits lifting, Robin returned Much’s warm embrace. “We will win,” he whispered. They were safe and that was all that mattered at that minute.

The ship cast anchor in the port at midday. It was a hot day with strong desert winds from the south. The heat was unbearable, almost inhuman. The harbor itself seemed a haven of peace as there were few Crusaders; yet, the nearby streets around the dockyard were crammed, the people were busy exchanging gossip and stories about a holy war.

Everyone was happy to disembark the ship. Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, and his men said farewell words to the outlaws and left for the king’s camp. Robin, Edmund, and the gang were met by Richard’s messenger who informed them that the king wanted to see all of Robin’s friends. However, Robin believed that it wasn’t the best option for Djaq to go to the Crusaders’ camp where she would have to tolerate suspicious glances from the guards.

As they passed a large group of Knights Templar who stood on one of the narrow squares, the knights stared at Robin in amazement and started whispering. Robin smiled, realizing that they had recognized him, his heart beating faster in delight; people’s admiration and recognition fed his vain nature.

“This is the Earl of Huntingdon!”

“Robin of Locksley?”

“Locksley? I thought that he had gone to England.”

“Captain Locksley returned to us!”

“Robin of Locksley is in Acre!”

“Sir Robin is back!”

Walking ahead of his friends, Robin slowed, feeling proud of himself and yet at the same time curious to know what they thought of his arrival in Acre. With a faint smile on his face, he bowed graciously, with exaggerated courtesy, and the Templars bowed in response with all the marks of deep respect.

Little John frowned slightly, confused. “Why are they talking about Robin?”

Edmund of Cranfield let out a laugh. “Robin of Locksley is the legend of the Holy Land."

"Oh, really, huh?” John arched a brow.

“Yes,” Edmund confirmed.

“When I lived in Acre, I heard a lot about Captain Locksley, but I never imagined that he would become my savior in England,” Djaq said, still bewildered that they were destined to meet. “Many stories circulated about the king’s captain, about his exceptional skills with a bow and his unparalleled skills with a sword, about his bravery and valor on the battlefield.” She paused, glancing at Robin and smiling pleasantly. “And, of course, about his humanity, too.”

“That is true,” Edmund confirmed.

"So Robin was good,” Will said seriously.

Edmund didn’t even ponder over the answer, for he already knew it. “Captain Locksley, Captain Beaumont, Captain Lacy, Capital Chauvigny, and Captain Champagne are the best Crusaders, but there is something truly exceptional in Robin,” he pointed out. “Together with Robert de Beaumont, Robin has always been closer to the king than other knights.”

“But who is the best then?” Will asked simply.

“I believe that nobody can rival the fame of Captain Locksley here,” Edmund said with conviction.

The outlaws had to make a short stop at Bassam’s house in the southern part of Acre, so they could leave Djaq with her uncle for her safety.

Bassam warmly greeted Djaq and looked with great caution at Robin and the pale-skinned faces of the other companions. Although Djaq quickly explained that the outlaws were her friends who had saved her life in England, Bassam obviously felt uncomfortable in their presence. The man’s face turned upset and even disdainful when Edmund introduced himself as the second-in-command to the head of King Richard’s private guard and added that Robin had held the rank of a captain.     

Djaq and Will had already admitted their true feelings to one another during their trip to the Holy Land. They decided that they would live at Bassam's house together. However, Bassam appeared to be unhappy with Djaq’s choice of a life partner, although he permitted Will to stay on condition that they would not share a bedroom. After a long, heated argument, Will, who didn’t wish to leave Djaq alone, grudgingly agreed to accompany Robin in the king’s camp.

They left Bassam’s house and passed through a labyrinth of narrow streets packed with people. Little John and Will were looking around with wide, astonished eyes, unsuccessfully trying to understand endless conversations in various languages Arabic. Crusaders spoke God's language, Norman-French, and English, but there were many Saracens around and Arabic still prevailed. From time to time, Robin translated some phrases, smiling at his friends.

Dusk began to fall as they rode to the north of Acre and then to the desert, towards the king’s camp, without any escort. Soon they saw where King Richard’s troops were camped. From the distance, it seemed that things were calm in the camp, where many fires burned around the tents and the men were obviously eating and drinking. Robin remarked that the king’s guards were on high alert as at least six men were watching everything and everyone at each side of the camp. The king was overcautious after numerous assassination attempts on his life.

Outside the entrance to the Crusaders’ camp, six heavily armed guards stood, forming a path with swords to every intruder. Robin and the outlaws dismounted and introduced themselves. One of the guards recognized Robin and smiled, then hurried to take his horse by the reins.

Robin smiled as he saw Sir Carter Leighton of Stretton, Baron Clifton; Carter had inherited the title after the death of his elder brother Thomas. Carter was walking towards him. The two men shook hands, and then Carter pulled Robin into an affectionate embrace.

“Carter of Stretton, I am happy to see you again,” Robin greeted.

“And so am I, Robin of Locksley.” Carter let out a broad grin. “I am glad that you came here. Life won’t be boring anymore. Should we expect a lot of mischief and many new crazy plans?”

“Half plans,” Robin amended.

Carter laughed. "I have forgotten! I am sorry.”

Robin winked at the blonde-haired Crusader. “Yeah, mischief will definitely find us.”

“You cannot keep your head out of the mess, Locksley,” Carter said with a laugh.

“Where is King Richard?” For many months, Robin’s mind replayed various scenarios of his meeting with the king. Now he was beset by raw emotions that had lain dormant for a long time, and mingled fear and excitement simmered in his veins.

“He has been waiting for you,” Carter informed.

“Let’s go,” Robin said with a tense smile, a quiver of fear slashing through him.

Robin and the outlaws made their way to the king’s large tent. The soldiers, including former Robin’s men, smiled at him and bowed in respect, but many of them were reserved, preferring to wait and see how the king would greet Robin. Almost everyone somehow had heard about Robin Hood, and some strictly disapproved of his actions that had resulted in his ostracism from noble society.

Robin noticed the slightly grizzled head of Sir James of Lambton, who stood quite far from him, frowning in displeasure. For an instant, James looked angry before his face recovered its blankness and he forced a wry smile. Robin mused how difficult it would be to build normal relations with the man who had been captain of the private guard in his absence and would be dismissed tomorrow.

Surrounded by several guards, his hands clasped behind his back, King Richard the Lionheart stood near his tent, watching Robin and the outlaws approach him. His lips curved into a small smile as his eyes fixed on Robin dressed in his green forest garb, a Saracen bow on his back, and his scimitar on his waist; then his face became devoid of all emotions. Richard was relieved that Robin seemed to be physically unharmed. Yet, Robin was pale and too thin, and the king wondered whether life in the woods had had such a remarkable effect on him. He also noticed a somber, detached expression on Robin’s face, and it stirred his interest.

Robin saw the King of England and smiled. "Now do as I do," he recommended his friends. His mind was reeling, and he clenched his fists for a moment, fighting to conquer his emotion.

Robin took a step to Richard, his face neutral. He knelt and bowed his head; the others followed suit.

“Sir Robin Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon,” King Richard said in a cold, formal voice. “We are happy to welcome you at our war court.” He spoke in Norman-French, his native language.

Robin inwardly winced at the chilliness in the monarch’s tone, wondering whether the lion was unhappy to see him or merely angry. At least the king didn’t call him Robert. Robin didn’t dare raise his head and look at his liege, patiently waiting for Richard’s permission.

“Rise, Robin,” Richard said. “Rise, everyone.” This time, he spoke in heavily accented English.

Robin rose from his knees and stood rooted, looking at the king. “Sire,” he managed to say.

Robin’s pale blue eyes locked with Richard’s deep blue orbs, and Robin felt his knees trembling. An uncustomary frigidity in the lion’s glance chilled the warm emotions in Robin’s heart. Robin was very happy to see the king, but he feared his liege’s displeasure and wrath very much.

The outlaws climbed to their feet. Edmund and Much smiled. Will and Little John felt both elated and awkward as they had never imagined that they would be ever standing in front of the King of England. They were impressed with the king’s charismatic personality.

King Richard was a relatively young, handsome man of a fair complexion and a huge height, with broad shoulders and a large head full of red-gold hair that was cut shortly in the latest Norman fashion. His face was regally cold and proud. His gaze was cold and scrupulous, and there was something mysterious in the depths of his deep blue eyes. The king wore a white Crusader tunic with a red cross emblazoned on the front, and his head was adorned with a golden circlet. Although the king had spent many years in the desert, the king’s skin was only slightly tanned. Richard was an immensely charismatic man: his posture was majestic and regal, and his handsome appearance dictated an immediate surrender and obedience. In the Holy Land, Richard the Lionheart was considered the greatest and bravest of all the Christian kings.

King Richard eyed Robin and his friends. Then he stepped forward and walked to Robin. He affectionately hugged Robin and then clapped a hand on the younger man’s back.

Richard greeted Robin with greater heartiness than the leader of the outlaws had expected. Robin’s heart started beating faster, for it seemed that the king was at least pleased to see Robin.

The king motioned to go into the tent. The royal tent was very spacious, decorated and furnished in the colors matching the Lionheart’s hair – red and gold. Everything was red-gold, from the huge carpet on the floor to the countless red and gold embroidered cushions. The covers on the large wooden bed in the corner were red and gold and purple.

Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester; Sir Legrand de Walcott; Sir Aubrey de Vere, the Earl of Oxford; Sir Roger de Lacy, Baron of Pontefract, and Sir James of Lambton waited in the spacious tent, sitting in high-back wooden chairs near the table with maps. When Richard entered the tent, followed by Robin and the outlaws, they all rose to their feet and bowed to the king.

The king settled into the luxurious throne on the opposite side to the entrance. Richard signaled his subjects to take a seat on cushions strewn on the ground, in Arabic fashion, or on high-back wooden chairs. Unaccustomed to the Eastern traditions, Little John and Will preferred chairs. Robin, Edmund, and Much wished to land on the cushions, but they followed suit.

Richard spent more than an hour talking to Little John, Much, and Will and deliberately ignoring Robin. He asked them many questions about their past and how they had become the outlaws. As Will mentioned that he would stay with his bride in Acre, Richard asked several questions about Djaq and how they had met in England. Richard laughed when Will referred to Little John by his nickname, for it was unclear for the lion why such a muscular and huge man was called ‘Little’.

The king didn’t pay attention to Robin as he conversed with others. After a few minutes, Richard cast a quick glance at Robin and then averted his gaze, just in a moment. Sighing deeply, Robin was patient and waited, knowing that if he had interjected, Richard’s fierce Angevin temper would explode, and he didn’t wish to become a recipient of the king’s wrath. Feeling the coldness breathing out of his liege when they eyes met for a split second, Robin was restless to be gone from the tent, fearing the conversation that would surely happen after the end of the audience with the outlaws.

“Carter, accompany Much and John to one of the tents. They all should rest after a long journey," the king addressed Carter. “Edmund, take Will back to Acre and ensure his safety.”

“Yes, milord,” Carter and Edmund said together as they bowed.

"Leave. Everyone, except for Robin," the king ordered.

§§§

It was already almost dark, and away to the west, over the land, the sun was sinking in a cloud of a crimson glory of surviving just another day in the lands of war and death. With the descending darkness, a cool breeze raced down the sandy hills near the Crusaders’ camp, and the cool air after a hot day would soon give way to chilly.

Inside the royal tent, King Richard and Robin remained alone. The king climbed to his feet and made his way to the piles of multicolored pillows, motioning Robin to follow him.

Robin bowed to the king. “My liege,” he said softly.

“Take a seat there, Robin,” the King of England said authoritatively.

Robin accepted the invitation and sank onto the cushions. “Thank you.”

The king called his servant and ordered to bring them some food and wine. The young man brought two silver jeweled goblets, a decanter of Bordeaux wine, and several platters with fresh fruits, eggs, fish, white bread, butter, and even some lamb. They sat in silence for a while, Robin looking at the table and Richard at Robin. The servant poured out wine for them and then left.

“How is your health, Robin?" the king asked.

“I am very well, sire. Thank you.” Robin cringed. It was as if the lion were greeting him like a common soldier, officially and formally, not like his grand favorite and old friend.

“Did you recover from your grievous wound? How are you feeling now?”

Robin was too astonished to speak, keeping silent for a while. He swallowed heavily, blinking his eyes. “I recovered completely, milord. Thank you for being worried about my health, for I don’t deserve that,” he said politely, in a cautious manner. “You are gracious to remember me.”

“Finally, you arrived,” Richard said, a note of slight rebuke in his voice, calling the attention to Robin’s delayed arrival in Acre.

Robin felt shame burning his cheeks. Richard was one of the very few people in the world who could make him feel ashamed and embarrassed. His liege was displeased with his behavior. He lowered his head and looked into the goblet of wine, as though it had been full of spiders, not elite spiced French red wine from the king’s wine collection.“I beg your pardon if I disappointed you,” Robin muttered apologetically.

"You didn’t disappoint us," the king replied formally. “But we expected that you would come at our first notice and that we wouldn’t need to send Edmund to England.”

Robin at first didn’t speak, as though he wanted to draw out the silence, staring into the red liquid in the goblet and hardly daring even to breathe loudly. “I am sorry that I didn’t return to Acre earlier with reinforcements, as you requested, milord.”

“What delayed your departure from England?”

Robin only hoped that the king would understand him. “Sire, the situation in Nottingham is grave. Sheriff Vaisey oppresses the people – the nobles and the peasants – by imposing unbearable taxes on them. He says that the taxes are used to finance the Crusade, but in reality Prince John uses these funds to finance assassination attempt on your life.” He took a small sip of wine from his goblet. “I couldn’t abandon the people. They needed me to survive.”

"And did you, Robin Hood, solve the problems of all the starving people in Nottingham?" Richard asked, with scarcely noticeable sarcasm which in any case went right into Robin's mind.

Robin cringed as the king intended to lecture him about his outlaw status. “No. There are many things that must be done there.”

“Robin, you are a kind-hearted man. It is a rare quality to put everyone’s interests above your own ones and be ready to sacrifice your future and even your life for humble souls,” the king said amicably. “We respect and admire you for that.”

Robin detected something like pride in the king’s tone and smiled. Now Richard sounded like his old good friend, and he felt more comfortable. “I don’t deserve your high praise.”

“You do deserve it.” The King of England swallowed the entire contents of the goblet in one gulp. He removed the empty goblet from his lips and placed it on the table. “And yet, you may be England’s hero, but one man cannot solve the problems of the nation."

“Not one person. Several people.”

Richard stared at Robin, the gleam of amusement and pride in his eyes. “You have always been an idealist demanding sheer perfection, Lord Huntingdon!” He laughed. “God save us from idealists!” His tone was mocking but kind.

The king smiled with a cold, mighty, and enchanting smile that always impressed Robin. A feeling smote Robin that he had already seen the same wicked gleam of amusement and a similar smile on the face of the mysterious beautiful lady whom he had accidentally met in the dark garden in the Castle of Limassol. Robin blinked as the image of the lady resurfaced in his mind: she also had red-gold hair, like Richard’s, and her smile was so much like his liege’s. She had the same regal and awe-inspiring air about her as Richard had. There were many charismatic people in the world, Robin thought.

Robin grinned. “Scratch the surface of a cynic, and you may find a frustrated idealist.”

“You may find someone who made a mistake of converting his ideals into expectations.”

The Lionheart gave Robin a long, searching look, but he didn’t find what he wanted. Knowing that Prince John and the Black Knights were hunting Robin like a wild dog in England, the king feared for his safety and recalled Robin back to Acre. But Richard feared that he would be unable to protect Robin from the rebellious nature and hot blood, which could lead to his tragic, undeserved death. The lion had always hoped that Robin would become more pragmatic with age, but it didn’t happen yet.

Robin sighed. “Maybe I am a foolish dreamer. Maybe I cannot see the difference between ideals and expectations. But I couldn’t watch my people dying from hunger and being oppressed by the sheriff.”

“Robin, the world is a cruel place. There is _no absolute justice and no universal equality._ These things are dreams and only dreams,” Richard said rhetorically, without taking his eyes off Robin. “Very few people are ready to sacrifice themselves to help the most humble man in the world; you are one of those few.” He poured wine for himself and sipped it. “But, in the long-run, efforts of these people are often useless: the peasants will always be oppressed, whereas you will have fewer sources to help.”

“There are always ways to help. You can always find a new way,” Robin argued.

“One of them will kill you in the end.”

“If I am careful, it might not result in any deaths.”

“But, eventually, you will have to lose someone or something.”

Robin had nothing to object. “Perhaps.”

The lion laughed. “Well, at least we agree on that.”

“Yes, we do.”

“You have always been foolhardy, conniving, and brave, a little mad in all your half plans. You were extremely successful on the battlefield and saved lives of many comrades, but you are not invincible. You have the talent to cheat death, but you might finally run out of luck.”

“I am trying to be more cautious.”

“Not enough. If you are dead, you will help nobody.”

Robin sighed. “I… I will try to be more cautious.”

The king shook his head, and an anxious gleam lit his eyes. “You must be more cautious, and you must understand that you alone cannot save everyone.”

“Sire, I have–” Robin began, frowning.

The lion cut him off. “You have to do that for your own future. Another reason is that the people don’t value your help and sacrifices as much as you want them to. They remember your help today and love you, but tomorrow it may change and they can betray and backstab you.”

“Why?”

“This is a human nature, Robin. People are worse than you think of them and than you want them to be.”

“Yes,” he said automatically, his thoughts drifting off to Allan.

“As we understood from your long letter Carter gave us, one of your own men betrayed you.” The king’s face turned wistful. “The same betrayal resulted in Roger’s death.”

“Allan-a-dale,” Robin pronounced the name of the traitor, lowering his gaze.

“Ah, yes, Allan.”

“What will happen to him?”

“We will consider and decide.”

“As you wish, milord.”

The king folded his arms over his chest. His gaze flitted over Robin’s face, and he heaved a sigh. “Robin, you can see goodness in almost everyone and underestimate the wickedness of others because of your idealism and generous nature. You want to see only the best in others because you are afraid of the darkness buried in your heart. These are not only your great qualities but also your major weaknesses, my friend.”

“I am trying to control darkness in myself, but it is difficult.”

“Many people cannot control such darkness at all. You are doing your best,” the lion soothed.

“I am trying.”

“You underestimated Lord Vaisey’s wickedness.”

Robin looked sad. “I begin to believe that I underestimated both Vaisey and Gisborne.”

“Robin, you have always been an idealist,” the king said rhetorically. “Idealists create beautiful pictures in their minds and believe that these pictures are real. But it is just their fantasy. The world is not only black and white, but also has different shades of gray.”

Robin reflected on the king’s words. Marian and Allan’s betrayals proved that he had perhaps had an incomplete understanding of their true personalities. Robin admitted to himself that he agreed that his fight for justice in Nottinghamshire may have been won only with the interference of the most powerful allies – the King of England. He could help the people on the temporary basis and give them hope, but hopes must be warranted. Although it was rather painful for him, his world was no longer ideal.

Robin nodded in gloomy silence as a sign that they agreed and he had no objections.

“It was a hard lesson for me to understand imperfections of the world, but I think I begin to learn.”

“We don’t think that you understand them enough, Robin. Not as well as we want you to.”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Robin began to talk about his life in Nottingham as an outlaw, and Richard asked him everything, as if he were interrogating him. As Robin talked about the Black Knights and Prince John, the king’s face became more and more concentrated, although he didn’t interrupt his favorite knight. Sometimes, Robin paused, searching for the right words and trying to avoid any conversation about Marian. “That’s all, sire,” Robin finally finished his tale.

There was silence for a moment, and then the king asked in the voice full of doubt, “All?”

Robin caught the hint in the king’s tone, understanding that the king sensed he had conveniently forgotten to say something important. “Yes,” he hurried to reply.

The intensity of the lion’s gaze was arresting. “Very well,” he said after a moment of silence.

The servant brought more food, but Robin didn’t even want to look at food. He had never eaten much, but today, being very tired and excited, he wasn’t hungry at all. Richard ate normally and finished off a plate of lamb with eggs.

“Robin, even the villagers of Locksley whom you helped may sell you out to Sheriff Vaisey if the bounty on your head is very high. You should trust but you must check and be cautious.”

Robin shook his head. “People tend to forget goodness and kindness quite quickly.”

“You publicly defied the sheriff, and it is not a simple adventure – it is a cruel and bloody war.”

“I know, my lord.”

“Robin Hood didn’t have a clear plan of action when he started his personal Crusade against the sheriff.” The king sighed. “Robin, you acted emotionally and hastily. You are a brilliant military strategist, but you didn’t use your skills in your adventures in the forest.”

“Sorry?”

Richard laughed at Robin’s confusion. Robin thought that his mask had covered his insecurities, but he was wrong – the king could read his mind rather well.

“You acted on emotions. You didn’t have a clear vision about the end of your battle with the sheriff.”

“I had a plan. Well, half-a-plan.”

The king parried, “There was no plan and not even half-a-plan. It was your idea and nothing else.”

Robin said nothing. The king’s words set loose a fresh flurry of worries and fear inside of him. He was also at a loss for words; maybe he grew out of a habit of listening to Richard’s lectures.

“Your idea was to save the four condemned men and then think about your next step,” Richard continued in a matter-of-fact tone.

“The sheriff is a sadistic madman. I had to save those people,” Robin said after a long pause.

The lion shrugged. “The sheriff may be a madman, but at least he has a long-term strategy, unlike you.”

“What strategy does Vaisey have? His goal is to kill you, sire, and to accumulate more power once Prince John ascends the throne?” Robin uttered with an air of offended dignity. “This is disgusting!”

A crescendo of laughter followed from Richard. “Our dear Earl of Huntingdon, we are not talking about ethical matters,” he spoke with the insolence of a well-bred man. “At least the sheriff has a clear picture of what he covets to achieve, while you didn’t think about a distant future.”

“I anticipated that you would return and make things right.”

“In the name of God and the Holy Virgin, Robin, listen to what you are saying,” the king responded, a note of annoyance creeping into his voice. Then he howled with laughter. “There is so little sense in your words.” He sighed. “Have you forgotten that Prince John is our heir, and if something happens to us and Arthur, then he would be the king? So what was your long-term strategy?”

A feeling of uncertainty was gnawing at Robin’s heart. The blood drained from his face. “I don’t know… I…” He stumbled with words, not knowing how to refute the argument.

“Robin, you know that our words are true.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Then say nothing and listen.”

“As you wish.”

“Robin, you must understand that innocents always die and there is always bloodshed. There is nothing that can stop that.”

Robin knew that there was much truth in his liege’s words. He thought that injustice might be prevented by saving people’s lives and letting traitors live, but it was a mistake. ”Probably, I was foolish to think that I could avoid bloodshed.”

“You wanted to win the battle without bloodshed,” the king declared straightforwardly.

“I didn’t want to kill when I could avoid that.”

The king sighed. “Don’t get us wrong, Robin, but we must say what you surely won’t like.”

The Lionheart and Robin looked at each other in a startled silence.

Richard broke the silence. “You mustn’t risk your own life for every peasant and every humble soul. You cannot become an outlaw every time you want to save someone. If you allow traitors to live, they continue killing innocents, and, in the end, you have to kill traitors in any case.”

Robin’s eyes widened, the blood drained from his face, and he blanched. “I may explain why I was outlawed. The sheriff wanted to hang–”

“Quiet, Robin,” the king instructed. “We know why you broke the law. You wrote us a very long and detailed letter that Carter gave us.” As he saw Robin tense, he smiled at his subject slightly. “No, we are not angry. Actually, we will rectify your outlaw status very soon.”

“Thank you.” Robin let out a small smile.

“We blame you for nothing. We are just speculating.” The king’s lips twisted in a smile. “There is more. If you decide to take a radical action, you must think of long-term consequences. This time, you didn’t think about your future when you willingly gave up your title and your fiefdoms.”

“What do you mean?”

Richard sighed. “We will not always be the king. We are mortal.”

“All people eventually die.”

“Your actions in England created serious problems for you,” the king continued coolly. “You rebelled against Prince John. Your public protest against the sheriff brought much attention to your personality.”

“It is true.”

“Prince John hates you.”

There was a mirthless smile on Robin’s lips. “Oh, he has many reasons to hate me.”

A look of sadness flashed across Richard’s face before it recovered its neutrality. “John also hates us, too, his own brother. But his hatred can be dealt with, and you shouldn’t worry about that,” he continued. “We are referring to the absence of a legitimate son as our wife has failed to give us a child so far.” His tone turned colder, for the failure of his queen to give him a child had cooled off the little passion he had had for the dull and too pious woman from Navarre. “Prince Arthur is our heir, but we may change it.”

“Milord?” Robin asked, confused.

“Perhaps, Prince John will become our heir instead of Prince Arthur.”

The king’s announcement filled Robin with emotions almost too painful for endurance. He had never thought hew would ever hear such words from King Richard, and he was shocked to learn that the king had probably thought to make Prince John his heir instead of Prince Arthur, the Duke of Brittany. Robin didn’t want to see Prince John on the throne, but not because he could benefit from his distant relationship with Prince Arthur, his second cousin through Arthur’s mother Constance, the daughter of Margaret of Huntingdon, a sister of the Scottish Kings Malcolm IV and William I. He firmly believed that Prince John would be a wicked king, who would make England and the nation miserable and would destroy the Angevin Empire. Presently, Robin was afraid of Richard’s unexpected death and its consequences for England.

“I hope Queen Berengaria will give you a son.” Robin’s voice was hollow.

“We doubt that. Not after many years of bareness.” Richard’s face was unreadable, but Robin could hear a note of disappointment in his liege’s voice. “And we know you don’t like John.”

Robin glanced away. “I have no right to judge your brother, sire.”

“If John ever ascends the throne, you, Robin, might have problems with him. Eventually, you might lose everything, if you rebel against him again. Yet, you can also keep everything if you are able to maintain an exterior of neutrality towards John and his politics.”

“This will be not easy.”

“This must be done, Robin.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, sire.”

“You must,” the king said in a high voice. “You must learn to handle tyranny without breaking the law, even if you have to sacrifice your idealistic principles.”

“What I did was the right thing. I saved the people whom Vaisey wanted to hang to test my fealty and satisfy his unlimited hunger for bloodshed.”

“It is a decision of short-term benefit.”

“Yeah, I agree, but if I had to do that again, I would do,” Robin responded resolutely, almost adamantly. “Everything has its price, and I am ready to pay a high price for my choices.”

“And what if a price is too high – the lives of those whom you love?”

Robin looked lost for a moment. “I can always protect my friends.”

It was not what the king wanted to hear from Robin. “There is a risk that you can fail.”

“I will gladly give my life for anyone of my friends, sire.”

“Always hot-headed and overconfident,” Richard grumbled.

“Sire, I–”

Richard continued brooding, “Fewer emotions, more rationality. It is good that you do the right thing and are able to stand up for justice. But the glorious vision of doing good things is often an illusion.”

“I cannot disagree,” Robin muttered, startled where the conversation was going. Heart hammering with anxiety, he paused for a moment as he forced himself to think. “I tried to help the people as much as I could, but it always seemed there would be no end to my war with the sheriff.”

“You thought so because you allowed traitors to live.” The lion was silent for a brief moment; then he resumed speaking. “You should have killed the sheriff and his henchman after you had realized that Gisborne had gone to Acre and had attempted regicide. You didn’t need to have a glorious fight with them – you could shoot them from any distance. By doing this, you would have neutralized the threat, and then the force of the Black Knights would have been significantly attenuated.

A frightened Robin asked, “Are you… accusing me of failing to do my duty?” He cast his eyes down to conceal his fear.

“No, we are not, Robin.” Richard sighed, thinking that he should have chosen softer words. “Sorry if our words sent you a wrong signal. We were just speculating about the things you could have done to stop the sheriff and Gisborne in England, to finish this war once and for all.”

The younger man smiled faintly. “Thank you for the explanation, sire.”

“Welcome, Robin.” The king smiled back at him. “You see you have to get rid of traitors to prevent them from hurting and killing innocents. Either they kill you or you kill them.”

Actually, Robin agreed with the king that he must have killed Vaisey and Gisborne in England, for he had had many chances to do that before the sheriff made a deal with Prince John for the protection of his life. If he had murdered his enemies after he had discovered a tattoo on Guy’s forearm, Nottingham wouldn’t have been besieged by the prince’s army and Marian wouldn’t have married Guy.

Shaking his head to banish these unwelcome thoughts, Robin said, “You are right, my liege."

§§§

A tense, almost frigid silence followed that neither the king nor his subject made an attempt to fill.

Richard saw that he would have to be the one to speak. “Robin, no good would ever come of opposing a king, a prince, or a sheriff in the long run.”

“No good at all, milord? How can that be?”

“Your opposition to the sheriff might cost too much for your people. Don't you understand that?”

Robin thought for a moment. Then he nodded. “Perhaps,” he admitted reluctantly.

The king was silent, his expression distant, for a long time, as if he had fallen into meditation. His brain was working hard as he tried to figure out how to make Robin see the truth about life. “Robin, you have to understand some important things,” he said after a long pause. “You should never become an outlaw again for the sake of your own people.”

“Why?”

“Think about the future of your people. How would the people be treated if you again became an outlaw and your lands were given to another lord? This new lord would probably oppress the peasants even more than Guy of Gisborne.”

“I didn’t think about that.”

“It is your main mistake.” The king swept his hand over the table as if he expected some demon to appear. “Your estates must be inherited by a good and capable lord – by your heirs, by your children whom you should teach to be fair and generous masters. You must preserve your bloodline and the historical inheritance of your family.”

Robin felt bile in his throat at the thought of heirs: he again remembered Marian’s betrayal. “I have no intention to marry,” he stated after long hesitation.

“Seriously?” the lion asked curiously. He saw Robin’s expression evolve into sadness, instinctively assuming that something might have happened in Robin’s private life.

“Yes.”

Richard’s eyes locked with Robin’s, and the monarch noticed the well-hidden grief in his favorite’s eyes. “Is there something else that you want to tell us?"

Robin noticed something sly in his gaze, as if he were now going to be subjected to a judgment or a test. “No, no.”

The king nodded, then sighed. He always knew when Robin lied; he would talk to Edmund later.

For a moment, Robin looked thoroughly confused beneath the king’s stern gaze; then he recovered his confidence and dared ask what interested him. “Why are you telling me all these things, milord?”

There was a silence in the tent. Richard watched Robin in silence, his expression inscrutable.

“Are you bored?” The king narrowed his eyes at the younger man.

An embarrassed Robin lowered his head. “I… I…” He stammered.

Robin was ashamed of himself because the king had given him so much attention; Richard never gave other guards lectures on life choices, moral problems, or anything else, honoring only his narrow circle of favorites, especially the Earl of Leicester and Robin. The king’s lectures proved his liege’s concern about his life; he was grateful, and it made him feel more ashamed.

Yet, Robin was angry, mostly with himself, as his choices were so easily questioned. His idealistic picture of the world lay in tatters; he himself began questioning his own beliefs, and then the king questioned his choices in a brilliant and persuasive manner. The realization that he had had naively dreamed of no bloodshed was a painful thing for him.

Robin also feared the king’s wrath. The lion cared about his future and was friendly towards him; but if he overstepped a line of tolerance, the consequence could have been severe. Moreover, he didn’t want to disappoint his King who meant so much to him.

Richard smiled, his eyes still narrowed. “Maybe we lecture you because we have nothing else to do.”

Robin gasped for air, his expression utterly stupefied. His cheeks were burning with shame. “Forgive me, my liege.” He raised his eyes to the king, then again lowered them. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

If he had seen the king’s face at that moment, Robin would have been angry. The king was smiling with a large smile of pleasure and satisfaction that Robin was brooding. 

“It is of no consequence, this time.”

“Thank you,” Robin said, raising his head to meet the king’s eyes.

“If we don’t make you listen and think, nobody will.”

“It is true.”

An odd little smile tucked in the corners of Richard’s mouth. “Now a warning.”

Robin tensed. “A warning?”

The king’s gaze turned serious. “Yes, Robin. It is the last time when you defy the authority of any king, prince, or sheriff.” The imps of dark blue fire flared up in his eyes. “Don’t even think of doing something like this again,” he said stringently. “We are warning you, Robin of Locksley.”

Robin glared into the lion’s eyes; there was sincerity there. “Why?”

“As you said, everything has its price. Your ignorance of rationality will also have a high price.”

“What… will happen to me?”

“We leave it to your imagination, for you have a good one.”

Robin looked shocked. “Are you serious?”

“We mean precisely what we said,” the king replied emphatically, his lips arching in a smile. “The punishment will be severe – not an easy reprimand.”

“I will remember that.”

“You must,” the lion snapped, sending him a look fraught with hardness and firmness. “The warning is serious. You have a chance to displease us if you dare ignore our words.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” Robin said in the voiced that lacked conviction.

A silence fell. The king drank his wine. Robin bit his lips in both confusion and fear.

“Robin, you are _our dear and close friend_ ,” Richard said in a deep voice, peculiarly gentle and thick with undeniable emotion. “We trust very few people, and you are one of them. We value our friendship.”

Deeply touched, Robin felt warmth flush into his cheeks. “I have always cherished that, milord.” The stormy depths of his eyes ignited.

“Now stand up and go to your tent. We will talk about the war tomorrow.”

“As you wish, sire.” Robin rose to his feet and bowed; then he walked to the exit from the tent, but the king’s voice stopped him.

“Think about what we discussed,” the king appealed to the younger man, his tone hortative and soft. He gave Robin nearly a paternal smile.

"I will,” Robin pledged.

Richard nodded, satisfied. “We hope so.” He could see that Robin was brooding, and it was exactly what he had planned to achieve.

The king rose to his feet and walked to Robin. No trace of emotion was visible on his impassive features as he moved towards Robin. He stopped and placed his large hands on Robin’s slim shoulders. “Robin, it is good to see you again. I am pleased to have you at my side.” He deliberately dropped the royal etiquette, talking to Robin in a very personal manner.

Robin smiled heartily, his eyes shimmering brightly. “Sire, I am so glad to see you.”

“If you have any problems or if you need a good and wise advice, don’t hesitate to come and talk to me,” the king said, looking straight into his favorite’s eyes. “Nothing has changed between us.” The sudden smile of rare warmth swept for a brief instant across the king’s face. “I deeply care for you, and you mean a lot to me. I will always listen to you and help you.”

A flush stained Robin’s cheeks and he gazed up at his liege, smiling gratefully. “Thank you, milord. Thank you. Our friendship means so much to me.” His heart was beating to suffocation, in excitement mingled with joy, happy to know that their friendship was important to his liege. He loved Richard as a friend with all his heart, and Richard loved his favorite too.

Robin met Richard’s gaze, and the king smiled, his expression friendly. Robin smiled back at his liege, the world seeming to narrow down only to only the two of them as they stared at each other for a long moment. Then the king pulled Robin into a tight and affectionate embrace, holding his favorite close to himself, both of them happy to see each other again; the lion held Robin in an embrace more than it was appropriate for kings to do, but he missed Robin too much and was too happy to see him again.

Then Richard abruptly drew back. He stared at Robin, his gaze ambiguous. “I can forgive you everything, except for only thing.” He paused as if struck by something for the first time and his eyes narrowed, glittering with danger. “ _I will never forgive you if you commit an act of high treason against me_.”

Robin gasped for air, acutely conscious of the uneasiness between the king and himself. His mind was swinging between pure abashment and frank terror. Taking deep breaths, he fought stubbornly against despair and fear. “I swear by God that I will never betray you.”

The lion patted Robin on the cheek. “I know. You are the most loyal of all my subjects.”

The king smiled affectionately, and Robin smiled back. Immediately both men seemed more relaxed and lighthearted, but Robin was puzzled over what had transpired between his liege and him if the king spoke about treason to him, which happened for the first time since their acquaintance.

“I swore my fealty to you, and I will keep my word,” Robin assured.

“I believe you, Robin.”

Robin looked relieved. “Thank you.”

“You are tired. Go and have some rest.”

Taking a step backwards, Robin bowed. “Goodnight, milord.”

As soon as Robin left, Richard invited to his tent Sir Edmund of Cranfield, the Earl of Middlesex. Edmund was not only the prominent soldier of the king’s private guard but also Richard’s personal spy who worked knew many of Richard’s secrets.

“Sire,” Edmund said as he bowed and presented himself to the king.

“Sit down, Edmund,” the king encouraged. “What of your report?”

Edmund seated himself onto a pile of cushions and stretched his long legs ahead. “I have dutifully investigated the situation in Nottinghamshire and in several other shires. I also learned many interesting details about Robin’s adventures in England, including the certain tragic events in his personal life,” he reported. “This is a long story, quite a tale.”

Richard smiled with a wolfish smile. “We have time.”

“Everything began when Robin stormed into his lands on his first day in Nottingham,” Edmund began. “Displeased with what he found in his estates, Robin dismissed Sir Guy of Gisborne from his service.”

The king ordered to serve supper for Edmund of Cranfield in his tent. They ate and drank, discussing Robin and his adventures in England. Edmund seemed almost enchanted with Robin’s actions as an outlaw, giving the king more and more tales about Robin Hood and his merry men. Richard spoke hardly at all and smiled a great deal, showing the huge front teeth and nodding his head.

“We expected nothing less exciting to hear,” Richard summed up as Edmund finished his report.

Edmund smiled widely, his pride and joy evidently gratified. “It is so exciting, my liege! You cannot imagine how much people love Robin Hood, their hero and savior!”

The corners of the lion’s mouth curved upwards in a smile. “Robin always does something amazing and incredible. But your story sounds more exciting than Carter’s long and intricate tale Carter.”

Edmund let out a small laugh. “What our Robin did is so exciting!”

“Let us drink together for Robin Hood,” Richard said neutrally, but with the same small smile.

Edmund obeyed with alacrity and poured out two goblets of wine for them. “It is my honor to drink for Robin Hood!” he exclaimed, bringing his goblet to the king’s; then he drained it in one gulp.

The king also emptied his goblet. “It is an honor for everyone,” he replied, his higher voice stressing every word. Then he looked at his spy, as if he were hesitating to continue. “Edmund, did Robin’s childhood sweetheart really turn him down?”

“Unfortunately, it is true, sire,” Edmund said sadly. “Poor Robin! The lady broke her betrothal to Robin and married a traitor to the crown – Guy of Gisborne, the despicable man who tried to kill you and who stole Robin’s lands! The woman is out of her mind!”

Richard sighed. “Are you sure that she married Guy of Gisborne?”

“Yes, I am.”

The king’s face was expressionless, but Edmund knew too well that his liege was as astounded with many details of Robin’s life as he had been at the revelation whom and how Marian had married. What Edmund didn’t understand was why the king requested him to confirm twice that Marian had chosen Gisborne. He suspected that Richard was in sheer amazement and a good deal of shock that Marian had married exactly Gisborne of all men. He felt that Richard had known something that nobody else had known, but he couldn’t ask, for he was only the king’s subject and it was not his deal.

“Interesting,” the king said briefly.

“I cannot understand how it is possible to marry this traitor instead of Robin,” Edmund murmured with a note of worry. “She was betrothed to Robin of all men!”

The King of England smirked. “You mean that there is no woman who wouldn’t wish to be married to the handsome and heroic Earl of Huntingdon?”

“Exactly. Robin, our Robin, was her fiancé! It is impossible to reject Robin of Locksley!”

“Well, nothing happens without a reason,” the king said flatly. “We can name at least one important reason why a lady may not wish to marry a man like Robin.”

Edmund smiled at the king’s words, knowing what was implied – Robin’s well-known sense of duty. “Robin is not himself. He is heartbroken and devastated. He tries to forget his former betrothed by having short-term affairs, but I don’t think that he was very successful. His smiles mean nothing.”

King Richard looked thoughtful. “I know what happened on Cyprus between Robin, Lady Isabella, and Henry,” he said, dropping royal protocol. “It seems that Robin is undaunted not only by his enemies but also by scandals.”

“It was quite a scandal, sire.”

“Tell me everything, Edmund.”

Edmund smiled, feeling more comfortable that his liege became more informal. “Of course, sire.” During the next hour, Edmund told Richard everything about Robin’s spontaneous love affair with Isabella of Jerusalem and Henry de Champagne’s unexpected appearance in the garden.

“Ah!” Richard imitated shocked expression. “Very dramatic!”

“May I ask you something, milord?”

“Of course”

“How will this incident affect Robin?” Edmund sighed heavily, fearing the lion’s temper.

“I won’t punish Robin; he will have to sort things out with my nephew Henry, this time civilly. From my side, I won’t utter a word about the scandal. It will be forgotten over time,” the king answered. “Robin suffered enough in Nottingham. Wives betray their husbands with other men every day, and Robin did nothing bad. What happened on Cyprus was a matter of unfortunate coincidence.”

Edmund was relieved that the king didn’t intend to punish Robin. The king forgave Robin for the scandalous love affair with Isabella of Jerusalem, the wife of his nephew Count Henry de Champagne, but if someone else, even Edmund, had found himself in a similar situation, there would have been no even royal benevolence. Apparently, knowing about Robin’s depressed emotional state, the king decided to forget about the scandal for the sake of his beloved knight.

 “Now Robin may be more foolhardy than before,” Edmund opined.

“That’s why I want you to watch him more attentively than before. When he is depressed, he is especially hotheaded,” Richard gave his verdict. “Don’t let me down.”

“We will take care of Robin.”

The lion smiled vaguely. “I trust you will.”

The king summoned Carter, Little John, and three other Crusaders, Sir Patrick of Bradford, Sir Edward of Wessex and Sir Aubrey de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, into his tent. They waited for orders, already suspecting what the king would ask them to do. Little John was extremely astonished, having no clue why he was suddenly invited into the king’s tent.

“Take care of the Earl of Huntingdon and protect him. In any battle or raid, Robin must stay alive at any cost,” King Richard instructed. “Watch him and report to us. If he does something reckless or too risky, immediately notify us.”

Carter stared at the king and gaped in amazement. Little John looked confused. Edmund, Aubrey, Patrick, and Edward smiled knowingly, accustomed to the king’s orders of the same nature.

“As you command, my liege,” Edmund replied.

“Do everything discreetly, as usual. Robin must know or suspect nothing,” the lion insisted. They nodded in understanding, and he waved a dismissive hand.

The king’s men walked to one of the tents, through the quiet night, the black sky above them dotted with shining stars. Finally, they stopped, with Carter and John looking at Edmund, who half guessing what they wanted to ask him.

“It is not a new order from the king,” Carter asserted.

“No.” Edmund nodded. “Your brother Thomas was charged with the same mission.”

Carter was amazed. “Really?”

“Carter, there are things that I have no right to say and will never say,” Edmund explained.

“I understand.” Carter knew that Edmund couldn’t speak about the king’s secrets.

Edmund knew that he had to say another thing to ease Carter’s mind. “Carter, you have to know that Thomas didn’t sacrifice his life to save Robin. On the contrary, on that night Robin tried to save him, but he couldn’t do that. Robin himself barely managed to survive in the bloody skirmish in that village. Morgan Foster and Matthew Kent died on that day.”

Carter emitted a heavy sigh, lowering his head in shame that he had tried to murder Robin. “I know that Robin is not guilty. No one is guilty, only Thomas and his reckless decisions.”

“Why does the king want to protect Robin?” Little John asked, feeling both bewildered and alarmed to discover the new aspects of Robin’s relationship with the king.

There was a moment's silence before Edmund spoke. “The king treasures Robin’s life.”

A smile curved Carter’s handsome mouth. “Obviously, rumors about Richard’s great affection for Robin are not exaggerated.”

John chuckled. “Robin is indeed a grand favorite.”

Edmund smiled briefly. “If I were in the king’s shoes, I would do the same. Robin is a unique man, and his death would truly be a great loss for England and the people, for everyone.”

Carter and John nodded, sharing gazes of understanding. Both of them agreed with Edmund, but it was still unusual for them to know that Robin had been protected by the King of England.

Meanwhile, Robin was already in the tent where he had been led by one of the king’s guards. He examined his surroundings, thinking the tent was austere compared with the one he had occupied during the five years in the Holy Land. With only a narrow bed, a low table strewn with maps, and four pieces of furniture, the tent seemed almost barren, but Robin didn’t care because he had been promised that tomorrow another tent would be pitched especially for him.

The voice calling him pulled Robin out of his thoughts. “Robert,” he said cheerfully, shifting his gaze to his friend who stood at the doorway, grinning wickedly. “I am glad that you have come.”

Robert winked at him. “My little bird, I have someone for you. A surprise.” Then the young Saracen girl entered, and Robert slid an arm around her waist. “Come here, my dear! I want to show you to my best friend in the light.” His gaze flew to Robin. “Look, Robin, she is here to please you this night.” His hand moved down the woman’s back to find her buttocks, and the other touched the collar of her long Arabic dress. “You need to relax, and I decided to take her to you.”

Robin eyed the woman who was looking at him in adoration, obviously charmed by him. She was beautiful and liked him, and he didn’t mind having her as a distraction from his fixation on Marian. “She can stay for an hour or so,” He let out a smile.

Robert gave a laugh. “For the whole night, my friend! The king won’t object!”

Robin didn’t share his friend’s confidence. “Only if she doesn’t mind being with me,” he said with a sigh.

The prostitute smiled at Robin. “I was told that Captain Locksley needed my services,” she spoke in accented English. “I have heard a lot about you, sire, but I have never thought that you are so young.”

“You have a sharp tongue,” Robin noticed.

Robert looked offended. “We both are young!”

She looked between the two friends. “Indeed,” she agreed.

Robert pushed the woman ahead, and she strode forward, stopping in a step from Robin.

“I chose her for you from the girls who came to the camp tonight.” Laughing, Robert bowed mockingly to the prostitute and then stormed out of the tent, going to his own tent to spend the night with another Saracen woman.

“Sire,” the woman drawled, taking a step to Robin. “I am yours. Your friend has already paid me.”

Robin didn’t have time to utter a word as the woman covered the rest of the distance between them and almost threw herself at her customer. She kissed Robin on the mouth, and he kissed her back, as his hands moved over her chest and the curve between the waist and the hip. He wrapped his hand around her waist, while the other hitched up her skirts, causing her to arch her back and moan.

Overwhelmed with desire, Robin was beyond conscious thought, and the vision of Marian in his arms flashed in his mind. "Marian," he whispered. He broke the kiss and looked at the Saracen for what seemed an eternity. Then he pushed her away and walked to the bed, trying not to let his desire advance.

 The woman looked abashed. “What happened, sire? Did I displease you?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I just want to be alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He glanced at the Saracen, his expression and gaze distant, as if he were searching in her for something that was far, far away. “I am sorry,” he offered her as a compensation for dismissal.

The Saracen sighed deeply and nodded, being careful he didn’t see her frustration that she wouldn’t be in the arms of the famous handsome hero. “Goodnight,” she replied, then exited from the tent.

Robin emitted a heavy sigh. His encounters with other women didn’t help him forget Marian, and it was stupid to continue on this path. An affair was just a fiction designed to distract and entertain, but every night with a new lover only brought him more pain, though he felt physical pleasure too. But the hollowness in his heart became more poignant, for all his attempts to forget had only resulted in more misery. His duty to his king would be his distraction, Robin told himself, and nothing else mattered.

§§§

The situation in Locksley improved after Guy’s marriage to Marian. Guy had unexpectedly agreed to more lenient with peasants. Marian was immensely pleased that Guy had stopped terrorizing the villagers and that his general attitude towards the peasantry seemed to have somehow changed. Living conditions became much more bearable in Locksley, but the quality of life was not good at all.

She asked Guy to help the populace of the other villages in the shire, but Guy shrugged, saying that he could do nothing and reminded Marian that he had already allowed her much more than he had initially planned. Guy insisted that they have to be very careful, for their actions could have enraged the sheriff. Guy feared that Vaisey would make them both suffer harsh consequences if he had learned that they had become so charitable towards the peasants.

Marian walked through Locksley, carrying a basket of food. In the past months, it became normal that Lord and Lady Gisborne gave away some food from their table to the villagers. She stopped and gave them food and medicaments. The villagers smiled at her and thanked her cordially, and Marian smiled sympathetically at them in response.

"Bless you, Lady Marian!"

"Thank you, Lady Marian!"

"God save our lady!"

The people gossiped about the disappearance of Robin Hood and the outlaws. Marian heard accusations that Guy of Gisborne had murdered the outlaws and had buried them somewhere in the forest, not bothering himself with giving them a Christian burial. The people missed Robin and were worried for him. Some were bold enough to ask Marian about Robin; she always answered that Guy had no clue what had happened to Robin, but they frowned at her, doubt obvious in their eyes.

Marian stopped near the small cottage owned by the family of potters – Rebecca, the mother and the head of the family, and her three children – Kate, Matthew, and Maggie. Rebecca came out of the house and bowed to Marian, then extended her hand to take fresh bread, some vegetables, and apples.

"Thank you, Lady Marian." Rebecca flashed a large smile. "Bless Sir Guy and you, my lady."

Marian smiled heartily. Rebecca was one of the very few villagers who seemed to have some respect to Guy. Yet, she never was close to the family of potters, though she knew the villagers very well. "Soon we will give you more," she promised. "How is your business? Are you able to pay the taxes?"

"We are doing well. We have enough to pay taxes and buy food. We are happy that Master Guy is treating us so well now," Rebecca replied sweetly. "After Robin Hood stopped robbing the sheriff, the situation improved.” She smiled.  “I am glad that he is gone and is not seen here. It is for the better."

Marian was astonished to hear ungrateful speeches about Robin. "You don't like Robin Hood, do you?"

"No, I don’t." Rebecca nodded. "Robin Hood is a fool and a criminal. He gives us false hopes of freedom we can never have. Not with his beloved and always absent King Richard who makes us pay huge taxes to finance his foreign wars."

The young girl appeared on the steps of the cottage. She was Rebecca's daughter Kate. Kate wore curious expression as she looked at Marian, then at her mother, her gaze hard and unpleasant. Marian took in her appearance and smiled slightly; the girl was a lovely young woman, with large gray eyes and blonde hair falling over her shoulders up to the middle of her back.

"Of course, we don't care about the king who abandoned us. His wars make our lives unbearable and even Robin Hood cannot save us," Kate said sharply.

Marian felt anger stirring in her heart. "You shouldn't say these things about the king and Robin."

"Why?" Rebecca raised a brow. "Hood ran to war and left his people. He came back and made a fool of himself by playing his stupid games with the sheriff." She sneered. "His games made our life more difficult. And now he is either dead or arrested."

Kate scowled at her mother. "Mother, Robin Hood is so handsome. I actually like him."

"Kate! Don't even say such things about this outlaw!" Rebecca urged.

Marian frowned. "Rebecca, I don't think that you have a right to judge Robin."

Rebecca blushed. "I am sorry, Lady Marian."

Marian walked away from the cottage. She didn't like Rebecca and Kate: Rebecca was ungrateful and tactless, and Kate was fascinated with Robin, which made Marian jealous. Marian turned around the corner of the house and stood there, listening to their conversation.

"I wonder where Robin Hood is," Kate said, her expression dreamy. "They say he is dead."

Rebecca gave a disapproving glare to her daughter. "I don't know and I don't care."

"Mother, why do you hate Robin?" Kate asked.

"I have never liked Hood," Rebecca snapped. "When he was the Lord of Locksley, he was generous with the people, but he deserted us, living us to the sheriff’s mercy. When he was outlawed, he helped many villagers, I don't deny that, but he also created many problems with the sheriff for all of us; Vaisey always took what he wanted, even though Robin gave always donations to us."

Kate shrugged. "Robin Hood likes showing off his talents." Her face evolved into a dreamy fathom. "But he is our hero – he is so bold, so charming, and so handsome."

"You are like these foolish girls," Rebecca snapped, apparently displeased. "Don't fancy him. He is not worthy of your affection."

"I don't think that Master Robin is dead," Raymond, the middle-aged carpenter, said as he had approached the cottage. "Rebecca, you are too unfair to Master Robin. Watch your tongue. Imagine that Master Robin becomes the Lord of the Manor again. You must respect him."

Rebecca looked skeptical. "If Hood is not here, then he is dead and buried in the forest."

"There should be another reason for his absence. I have known Master Robin since his childhood – he is a good and warm-hearted man. I am sure that he would have never left us unless he had a serious reason," Raymond opined. "I pray that he will come back as the Lord of Locksley."

"I don't care who our Lord is. I only want to have a bearable life," Rebecca said.

Raymond sighed heavily. "I hope that we will soon hear from Master Robin." He put a hand on his chest, to his heart. "Maybe Robin might have left England." He cleared his throat. "He could have gone to King Richard. I have heard that he is King Richard's friend, and he has a strong feeling of duty to England and our king."

"Who knows where this vagabond is now and when he will come back. I am indifferent to his fate," Rebecca countered rudely.

Still standing round the corner of the cottage, Marian heard their last words. A sudden fury seized her heart at the thought that Robin could have departed to the king, to the Holy Land. She had never had those thoughts before, but now she believed that the old carpenter could have been correct. Robin had told her many times that he loved King Richard and her, his Marian, but she was lost to him. She knew that Robin could have left England, thinking that there was nothing left for him there.

Marian suddenly wanted to run to Sherwood as the forest always gave her so much desired to have peace. She walked away from Locksley, towards the woods. She passed by the pond and crossed a large field, heading to the edge of the forest, not far from Locksley.

She stopped and settled herself against the trunk of an oak. She narrowed her eyes against the sinking sun and looked up. The last glimmerings of the sunlight flashed across the dark autumn sky that was tinged with shades of fire-red and bronze. Looking at the sky, she felt as if a choking sadness had engulfed her entire being, and she was again thinking about Robin.

Sherwood Forest was the place where her romance with Robin had started years ago. She remembered how Robin had knelt to her near the Great Tree, as they had called it, and had spoken a passionate speech, asking her to have him, the obnoxious and charming earl, as her husband. He had also proposed to her again in the forest, but under a different tree and over a fresh grave.

Marian sighed. Even if Robin had really left Nottingham, he was still a part of her life, and, God help her, she didn’t want to forget him. Many wonderful memories about Robin were vivid in her mind, and she suspected that it would never change.

She looked around. There were so many trees in the woods: big old oaks, twisted limes, hazel coppice, and others. She was no longer a young carefree girl, but as she sat there alone, she couldn’t help but remember happy years of her early youth. She longed to be a young girl again, but the voice in the back of her head whispered to her that the old days were gone irrevocably.

"Look, the sky is clear, and even the air feels balmy," a familiar voice spoke.

The voice brought Marian back to reality. "Allan! What are you doing here?"

Allan was leaning over a nearby oak, arms crossed over his chest. "Yeah, I was in the forest."

"Why?"

"I went to the camp," he informed.

"Did you find someone?" Her voice was pitched low now, soothing.

"No, Maz."

"Oh," she breathed.

"It seems that they weren't there for several months," Allan said, struggling to keep his voice devoid of disappointment. He missed everyone, especially Will and Djaq who understood him so well. "I visited the camp every week last month. Every time there was nobody. It is abandoned."

"They are gone," Marian said in an unexpectedly sharp intonation.

Allan took a seat on a log from a fallen tree, his arms folded on his lap. "Most likely. I don't think that Robin and the lads were captured and killed. Vaisey would have made a public spectacle of their execution if he had finally managed to capture and arrest them."

"Some villagers think that Robin could have left to the king." She sounded almost sad.

He shook his head. "I am not being funny, but… I think that Robin went to war to get himself killed because you married Guy."

She shot him an angry look. "Do you blame me for leaving Robin?"

"No and yes," Allan said evenly. "Last time you wanted to marry Guy and then ran away, Robin gave up on you and let you go. He said that he wouldn't join us to save the king.” He sighed. “Later Much told us that Robin was about to leave Nottingham when he heard his cries that the king was an imposter. Then Robin came back to us." He paused and drew a deep breath. "But you married Guy.”

Marian’s face recovered neutrality. “And what?”

“I think that Robin decided to return to the king.”

Marian digested Allan's words. She was still. She closed her eyes and held her breath, trying to bite back the tears that were pricking the insides of her closed lids. She wanted to think so much that Robin hadn’t chosen the king over the people and her again. She knew that she had been stupid, but she was jealous of Robin to King Richard, and she was angry that he idolized Richard.

She refused to believe that Robin had gone to war to die there in battle because she had betrayed him. No, Robin was a strong man – he never needed Marian as much as she needed him.

A pang of sadness passed through Marian's heart, and she wanted to howl like a wounded animal. Had she hurt Robin so much that he had stopped caring whether he lived or died? But Robin had loved the king more than he loved her, and he had been torn between his loyalty to England and his love interests. Her decision to marry Guy had been right as she had given Robin a chance to completely devote his life to what had always been more important for him – England and the king.

Marian laughed. "If Robin left for the Holy Land, it means that he abandoned the people here."

"But this is not what troubles you the most, Maz."

She sighed. "Yes, Allan, you are right. If Robin went to the king, then I was right that I chose Guy. Robin is always with the king. The king is more important than everyone and everything else."

"Yeah, Robin's loyalty to King Richard is immense and blind, to some extent. I was annoyed when he bragged about his friendship with the king and how great King Richard was."

She smiled. "I know what you mean."

Allan also smiled. "Oh, you do. But if Robin is with the king, it makes my life more complicated." His voice trembled as he remembered the sheriff's last despicable plans.

Marian gave him an intensive glare. "What happened? Do you have problems with the sheriff?"

"I cannot tell you, Maz. But I don't like what Vaisey orders me to do."

She shook her head in understanding. "Vaisey destroys everything he touches."

"Yes." Allan looked overwhelmed with many emotions on that moment. "I betrayed Robin and the lads for nothing. And now I am trapped"

Marian smiled. There was something similar between Allan and her. They both had to be careful, standing so close to the edge of a dangerous precipice.  Nottingham would be a savage place until the king's return, for some people much more frightening than the untracked forest and wild beasts who dwelt among the trees. The sheriff could have killed everyone, even Guy, Marian believed.

"You are a good man, Allan."

"Thank you." Allan smiled kindly. "It sounds funny but I have grown to like Guy's company in the past months. He has changed and is no longer as cruel as he once was."

Marian laughed in warm amusement. "Well, I thought that I am the only one who sees the goodness in Guy's heart. I am glad that you also see it."

"Yes, I do, but only when Guy is not with the sheriff."

She changed her position and raised her knees, folding her arms over them. "The sheriff is the reason for Guy's cruelty. Guy becomes a different man when he is far from Vaisey."

"Guy does wrong things, and he knows that what he does is bad. Yet, he still does them, as though his very survival depended on that."

"Very true, Allan."

"Still, there is something else, Maz."

"You noticed that, didn’t you?"

"Yes, I did," Allan confirmed. "I think something bad happened to Guy in childhood."

Marian drummed her fingers on her knees. "Guy never speaks about his family and childhood. He can give subtle hints, but nothing else."

"That's the problem. He doesn't wish to speak."

"Then I will try to make him speak."

Allan gave her a skeptical look. "Good luck."

"I will try," Marian asserted. "The main problem is still Vaisey." She laughed. "Vaisey doesn't allow Guy, you, and me to be free. We are not safe as long as he is the sheriff."

"I cannot disagree." Allan exhaled sharply before he spoke. "I won’t do what Vaisey wants from me, and only Robin can help the king and me. If Robin is in the Holy Land, it is really bad because I will be unable to contact him and warn him."

The sadness in his voice alarmed Marian. "Then we should be very cautious now."

"Yes, we should."

Her heart clenched with gladness, Marian smiled at Allan. "I am glad that you are here, Allan."

"You are most kind." He laughed. "Always welcome if you need an ear, Maz."

"Thank you. We shall pray for the king's safe return." A cunning smile curved her lips. "But there is always help, if you know where to look for it."

Allan looked alarmed. "Marian, what are you planning?"

"I have to do everything to turn Guy against the sheriff," she said resolutely. "He can become his own man, but only if he breaks from Vaisey."

Allan let out a sign of relief; at least she didn't plan something crazy. A wan smile touched his lips. "Don’t be so optimistic."

Marian glanced at him with fierce determination in her eyes. "Allan, I never give up if I want something. I won't give up on Guy."

"Then let your hopes come true, Maz."

“If I fail to make Guy happy, I can at least guide him to redemption.”

Allan narrowed his eyes, watching Marian, his concern apparent in the frown that wrinkled his forehead. His fingers settled upon her shoulder. “Maz, you cannot escape from yourself.”

She let out a tight breath. “I know.”

Allan also sighed. “I think I know why you are so… troubled. You need to rest and then ask yourself what you want to do with your life.”

“Thank you, Allan.” Marian shuddered with both joy and fear – joy because he did understand her and fear that he knew that she had some doubts about her feelings for Guy.

Allan laughed. “Oh, Maz, you are so confused.”

“What is so funny?” she asked, slightly miffed that he could find her anxiety humorous.

“You,” the blonde-haired man replied. “Why is it so impossible for you to believe that you can love two men at the same time?” She wanted to say something, but Allan tugged on the sleeve of her cloak, signaling to listen to him. “Yet, you don’t know whom you love more and how you love each of them.”

Marian stared at him, quite unable to get even the smallest word past her lips. “Allan, I… I…”

“Maz, you need to clear your head,” Allan continued. “You can love in Robin what you don’t have in Guy, and in Guy what you don’t have in Robin. And if you are so confused, try to think whom you love more.” He drew a deep breath. “Now, when Robin disappeared, you don’t have him anyway. But if you are still suffering so much when Guy is so close to you, then maybe you love Robin more than Guy.”

A speechless Marian continued to stare at him while her heart pounded in her chest. He voiced all her fears and doubts, as if he were able to read her mind and her feelings. She smiled at Allan, grateful for his moral support. “Don’t say that, Allan,” she uttered at last.

“I am saying that only to you. Guy doesn’t hear us,” he said. “I only want to help you.”

Marian felt her chest tightening painfully. “Thank you,” she said with gratitude.

Allan gave her a light smile. “You are welcome, Maz.”

Soon Marian returned to Locksley Manor.

She spent the evening alone in her bedchamber as Guy was at the castle for an unknown reason. She had already fallen asleep by the time when he returned to Locksley. On that night, Marian slept well despite being burdened with anxious thoughts about Robin Hood’s fate. Her husband and Allan had spent almost the whole night talking to Vaisey’s about the murder of the Queen Mother’s golden boy, and if she had known about that, she would have been extremely disappointed in Guy.

§§§

Since the disappearance of Robin Hood and the outlaws, the people of Nottingham were as oppressed and troubled by the sheriff's men as they had been before Robin's return from the Crusade. Though life improved in Locksley, the situation was opposite in other villages in Nottinghamshire: people were not dying of hunger yet, but the upcoming winter threatened to make life conditions tougher.

Vaisey commanded Guy to send more guards to all the villages in Nottinghamshire, patrolling the places where Robin Hood's gang had made their deliveries in the past. The strict curfew was introduced in Clun, Nettlestone, and all other villages of the shire, except for Locksley, where an army of Guy's own guards was stationed. It was the sheriff's plan to observe and patrol the whole area in order to increase the probability of capturing Robin Hood and the gang.

Marian could no longer tolerate that the people in other nearby villages still starved and that many of them died from hunger. If Robin had deserted the people again, it didn't mean that she would do the same. It was her duty to take care of the villagers and ease their burdens, and she was going to resurrect the Nightwatchman. Knowing that Guy was busy at the castle until the late afternoon, Marian disguised herself and took bags with the food and medicaments, which she had prepared in advance.

Her heart pounding in anticipation of a new adventure, Marian climbed out of the window of the bedroom. She left Locksley without being noticed by Guy's guards. In several minutes, she was already on her way to Clun and Nettlestone. The whole day was rather chilly, and there were heavy clouds scattered across the gloomy sky.

As usual, she left the packages on the front steps of small, shabby cottages. She was extremely careful, hiding behind the buildings and trees if she saw guards walking in her direction. She was very lucky, and the guards didn't notice the Nightwatchman in Clun. Yet, she ran out of luck in Nettlestone as the sheriff's men noticed a glimpse of the familiar disguised figure in the outskirts of the village.

"This is the Nightwatchman! The Nightwatchman is here!" one of the guards warned.

"The Nightwatchman!"

"Get him! After him!"

Unfortunately, Sheriff Vaisey and Guy were on their way there to make another public proclamation against Robin Hood and his gang in Nettlestone, which was a part of the sheriff’s plan to tarnish Robin’s reputation of the peasants’ hero. As soon as they arrived in the village, they heard loud shouts of the guards who had discovered the Nightwatchman.

"Oh, this is a good day! I like this! And only think, Gisborne, I was bored an hour ago," Vaisey spoke, an ugly grin spreading across his face. "Shame… that Hood disappeared because I really rather enjoyed our little skirmishes. But at least we have our dear night hero!"

"What should we do, my lord?" Guy asked stupidly, his heart pounding, his head spinning in fear.

"You don't know, Gizzy? I want the Nightwatchman! Alive! I want his little pretty head on a spike at my castle," Vaisey said. "Gizzy, I need our hero if we cannot find Hood."

"The Nightwatchman! Get him! After him!" Guy commanded. He spurred on his horse in both flanks and rode ahead of his guards at a frightening speed.

Allan rode next to Guy. "Guy, listen, are you gonna catch the Nightwatchman with so many guards? I think there are too many here; fewer will be enough."

Guy didn't hear Allan's words, riding ahead of his men and thinking hard how to prevent the capture of the criminal. "Well, the Lord help us and me," he whispered to himself.

"I knew that one day it would happen," Allan said to himself.

A frightened Marian turned on her heel and ran away from the village, and soon she was speeding through the forest. Her feet were light, her movements adroit and quick, and she ran as fast as her legs carried her. She feared that she would be captured and Guy would learn her secret.

The forest glittered in the bleak sunlight, scarcely swayed by the breeze. Exhausted and out of breath, Marian stopped in the small clearing. She strained her ears, trying to understand how far away the guards were. Everything was still, and she could hear only little birds singing. She drew a deep breath, enjoying the air of the woodlands, and looked around.

"I have to get out of here," Marian murmured to herself. "I cannot be discovered."

Then something hissed past her ear, and struck with tree trunk right near her. She gazed down and saw a gray goose shaft of an arrow. She sprang to her feet, and crossed the clearing, then strode towards the depths of the woods, continuing to run as fast as she could.

"Where are you, the Nightwatchman? I will find you, my little goodie-doer!" The sheriff rode now near Guy, looking around, trying to catch a glimpse of the cloaked figure among the trees.

"My lord, I don't think that we will find the Nightwatchman. I am sure he is now in his hidey-hole somewhere in the forest," Guy assumed. "It is getting dark, and we should return to the castle."

The guards stared at Guy in confusion. Allan gaped at Guy's words.

Vaisey gave a murderous glare to Guy. "Gisborne, have you gone mad? Did you hear my orders? I don't care what you will do! I want the Nightwatchman found by the sunset! I want the hero's head! I want blood!"

Guy sighed. "Get the Nightwatchman! After him!"

Marian shuddered in fear, and blood surged through her veins as she heard loud voices of the sheriff's guards and distinguished Guy's commands to chase their pray. Guy was so close and could have found her any minute. She heard, rather than saw, the horse and rider coming at a gallop towards her, understanding that the sheriff and Guy were leading his party deeper and deeper into the woods on their errand to capture her. Not wasting time, Marian started running along the forest path she knew very well; she ran and ran, heading to the small clearing, where she planned to hide.

"Losers! Why cannot you capture one man? Get him for your Sheriff! Blithering idiots, you cost me my time and my entertainment!" the sheriff bewailed.

Marian breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the clearing. She stopped and looked up, her gaze focusing on the branches of the trees nearby, then at the trunk of a large oak tree that was hollow inside. She rushed there and plunged headlong into her temporary shelter, using some thicket to hide. In the next moment, several arrows rattled among the branches after her.

At the same time, Guy’s black stallion passed by the tree where Marian was hiding; Allan rode right behind his master. The sheriff's men rode through the forest at a headlong speed; some of them dismounted and ran straightway into the woods.

"The Nightwatchman! I saw the glimpse of him there! I saw him there!" Guy bellowed, showing with his hand to the side opposite the direction where he assumed Marian could have headed. "We should go to the northern part of the forest, in the outer circle."

Allan was confused, not understanding what Guy was doing. "Yes, in the outer circle. Hood has some hide-outs there, and we should check there," he said automatically.

Guy stared at his right-hand man. "Really, Allan?"

A panicking Allan feigned confusion. "Hey, Guy, what do you want? It is not funny!"

"Not funny at all!" Gisborne rode ahead, directing his guards to move towards the outer circle.

"Get the Nightwatchman! I want him shackled!" The sheriff threw an angry fist in the air.

Marian heard their voices and the sheriff's angry shouts, Guy's sharp, clear orders. And then everything went still, very still. She waited for more than an hour, always listening to the sounds outside. Convinced that she was safe, she emerged from the hiding place. She straightened her spine and examined her surroundings. But then she heard voices again, very quiet and distant. She threw herself on the ground and started crawling there.

Soon Marian managed to leave them far behind. Marian held her breath, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She stood for a moment, listening to the very distant shouts of the men as they searched the woods failing to find the target but stubborn, like hounds that had lost the scent of the quarry. Silently praying that she wouldn't be discovered again, she ran fleetly down the road towards Locksley.

On the edge of the woods, Marian removed her costume and a mask; she hid all the things in a hollow place in the trunk of an oak. She swiftly pulled into her dark green brocade gown and smoothed down her skirts; then she fixed her disordered hair. Taking a deep breath, she gathered up her skirts and fled on the run towards the manor. She thanked God that Guy still wasn't at home when she returned. She was safe at least for one evening.

She didn't know that she was watched by the hooded man who stood behind one of the trees. "Lady Marian of Gisborne has many secrets from her husband,” he muttered to himself, smirking.

At the same time, the sheriff and his party returned to the castle. As soon as they dismounted in the courtyard and the stable boys led the horses away, the sheriff's temper exploded, and Guy and Allan had to listen to insults and grumbling that they had failed to find the Nightwatchman in the outer circle. Then Vaisey demanded that Guy came to him for a private audience and left.

Guy obeyed his master very reluctantly. Soon he stood in the study, watching the sheriff pace back and forth. Vaisey was strangely nervous, constantly smoothing down the folds of his black robes. Then he stopped near the cage with birds, watching the creatures with a bright smile on his face.

Suddenly, Guy heard footsteps, but not in the corridor. He looked around, searching for the source of the sound, but found nothing. The sheriff stopped pacing and stopped in the middle of the chamber, and Guy swung his gaze to the fireplace. He gasped for air, staring in awe at the guest dressed in a warm riding cloak, his head hooded. He had no idea who the man was and why he came to the castle so late. Besides, he had never known that there was a secret door in the study.

The guest approached the sheriff and bowed. "I have collected quite a lot, my lord," a male voice spoke. He took a heavy bag tied with rope from the inner pocket of his cloak, and put it on the table.

Vaisey laughed as he heard the muffled chink of coins. "My dear Lord Buckingham, I am happy to see you! I see that you are doing your job very well, blah-di-blah-di-blah," he said in sing-song tones. "Congratulations, my boy. The prince will be very pleased."

"Prince John will be much more pleased when we finally move to the new stage of the Shah-Mat operation." The Earl of Buckingham looked at Vaisey from under the shadow of his hood. "We can collect much money from our allies in Normandy and Aquitaine, but we must be technically prepared to fulfill the prince's greatest wish."

The sheriff remained quiet for a while, surveying the earl. Then he let out a nasty laugh. "At first, let's collect the funds for our operation. Then we will plan everything."

"I agree," Buckingham replied. "You know that the prince wants you to do."

The sheriff chuckled. "We will do everything we can."

"Very well then," Buckingham mumbled; his voice sounded tired. He turned his gaze at Gisborne. "I have heard that you are married. How is your wife doing, Sir Guy?"

Guy blinked, confused; he was sure that there was bitterness in Buckingham's voice. "I thank you, Lord Buckingham. My wife and I are doing very well."

Buckingham smiled. "Prince John sent me on an important errand on the continent, and I was out of England for a long time. I didn't know that you married… Lady Marian of Knighton. Only when I returned, the Baron of Rotherham informed me about your marriage.”

Guy sighed. "Our wedding was a private affair because my wife was still in mourning for her esteemed father. We didn't notify the nobles from our shire about the event."

"Sir Guy, you are a lucky man," Buckingham said flatly, but there was something dangerous in his tone that Guy didn’t fail to notice. The earl glanced at Vaisey and laughed. "Lord Vaisey, you know that I don't like what I see."

The sheriff made a helpless gesture. "I am sorry, Buckingham. I don't like that either." He sighed heavily. "But now only the prince may decide how to… resolve the small differences."

Guy looked between the sheriff and a hooded Buckingham, and worry creased his brow. Something was happening or had already happened behind his back, and it unnerved him. He didn't like Buckingham's sudden interest in his marriage to Marian. The Earl of Buckingham clearly was not only astounded with the news of Guy's marriage but also displeased. Guy also remembered that Buckingham had liked Marian when he had met her at the castle after the meeting of the Black Knights when Robin had almost killed them and only Winchester’s betrayal had saved their lives.

Vaisey's friendship with Buckingham disgusted Guy. He felt that there was an undercurrent in the situation with Buckingham that seemed to give a hint of something below the surface. Guy had seen Buckingham at the court in London and had heard a lot about his lifestyle, and the man's disgraceful orgies and wanton debauches shocked him. Buckingham had a fine life and had an army of mistresses, and he even kept several mistresses simultaneously. Buckingham was Prince John's favorite and was utterly loyal to John, perhaps more loyal than Vaisey.

Guy had always felt uncomfortable in Buckingham’s presence. In fact, Guy despised Buckingham since the moment when Vaisey had introduced them to each other in Normandy many years ago. He had always been interested in how close Vaisey and Buckingham had been and how many dirty deals they had done together. But in spite of his disgust with the Earl, Guy had to smile and pretend that he respected the other man.

"Of course, I comprehend," the Earl of Buckingham answered; he released a deep sigh of frustration. "The prince told me that we have to wait and see, but that he can do nothing right now."

Vaisey laughed. "Prince John – our future King John – has always been very cautious. It is his general strategy – waiting and watching and then acting in the most cunning fashion."

Buckingham burst into ringing laughter. "That's why I respect our prince so much." He turned his head to Gisborne. "The prince always rewards those who are loyal to him."

Guy was confused with the conversation between Vaisey and Buckingham. He regretted that Buckingham didn't remove his hood and that he couldn’t see the earl's face.

"And we are loyal to Prince John," Guy said neutrally, choosing to be cautious in his words.

"Yes, we are," Buckingham confirmed, his gaze sliding to Vaisey. "I must go back to London. I cannot stay in Nottingham. I am tired after a long journey, but the prince is waiting for me."

The sheriff flashed a sly look. "You will have a comfortable and merry life at the Prince's court, Lord Buckingham." He chuckled. "This is good! This is so good! I approve that you are going to have a good time at the court, my boy. You should teach my Gizzy to entertain."

The Earl of Buckingham laughed. "I am not sure that Gisborne will ever learn, Lord Vaisey."

The sheriff laughed. “Eventually, my Gizzy will learn. I continue educating him.”

Buckingham exploded in laughter. “It is a hard work to teach Gisborne,” he said venomously, his eyes darting between the sheriff and Guy. “Shall we have a private audience for a minute, Lord Vaisey?”

“Of course,” the sheriff returned, looking at Guy. “Gizzy, wait for me here.”

Buckingham bowed courteously. "Have a good night, Sir Guy."

“I wish you the same,” Guy said, intrigued.

The sheriff and Buckingham headed to the secret door and opened it. Then they disappeared in what looked like a tunnel.

Guy didn’t like what he saw: the sheriff had his own deals with the Earl, and it made him suspicious; he wondered what the two other men were discussing in private.

Buckingham and Vaisey stood in the tunnel that led outside the castle and straight into one of the streets in Nottingham. It was almost absolutely dark there, and Buckingham lit up a candle.

The tunnels were the part of the so-called underground hell which Vaisey had built to ensure a safe passage from the castle in case he had to escape. He kept the collected taxes and his own wealth in one of the underground rooms to avoid being robbed by Robin Hood and his gang since the construction works had been finished several months ago. Additionally, there were underground dungeons, torture room, and laboratory there.

As soon as they were alone, Buckingham allowed himself to display all his displeasure. “ _How can you allow Gisborne to marry Lady Marian?_ Don’t you know what document I have with me?”

“Oh my Lord!” Vaisey cried out mockingly. “What a great loss, Lord Buckingham! This is so sad!”

Buckingham’s hand touched the parchment he had kept in his inner pocket. “You know what I can do! I have the document that I can always use to my benefit!” He paused, looking into Vaisey’s eyes. “I am so tempted to ask Prince John for help!”

“No,” Vaisey countered.

“We had an arrangement, but everything was ruined!”

 “Leave it be,” the sheriff insisted.

“Why?” Buckingham brought the candle to their faces to better see Vaisey.

Vaisey gripped the Earl’s forearm. “Gisborne is in my favor, and I am in Prince John’s highest favor. As long as Guy is loyal to me, I won’t let you do that.”

The Earl scoffed. “Do you worry so much about Gisborne’s happiness?”

“I care for him as long as he is loyal to me,” Vaisey said. “Are we in agreement?”

Buckingham shook his head. “We agree to disagree. So far I will do nothing with _the document_.”

The sheriff smiled. “Very well, my lord. Have a comfortable journey to London.”

“Godspeed, Lord Vaisey,” the younger man returned with an affectionate smile.

The sheriff scooped Buckingham into his arms. “Take care, my friend.”

They were old friends and had worked together for about twenty years, longer than Guy worked for the sheriff. They killed many of Prince Richard’s knights in cold blood at either the order of King Henry or Prince John. In Vaisey’s case, Guy usually killed at his master’s command. Buckingham had murdered many of Richard’s men with his own sword, but his hands were less dirty just because he was wealthier than Vaisey and descended from the old Norman nobles. Vaisey, who was a son of a landless knight, had managed to ingratiate himself into King Henry’s favor and later John’s favor, but he had had to work very, very hard to achieve that, slashing many throats in the process of earning their trust and respect.

Buckingham bowed to the sheriff, showing his deep respect for the older man. Then he stalked through the tunnel, each of his steps slow and measured. Soon the earl disappeared around the corner, and it became absolutely dark in the tunnels; then the sheriff returned to the study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robin finally arrives in the Holy Land and meets with King Richard. The king is not portrayed as the good and fair King Richard, who never existed in reality. Richard is shown as a clever and capable military commander, a ruthless and cruel king, cunning and manipulative. At the same time, he won’t be portrayed as a great political strategist and a great schemer, which is fair to say about Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. The king is generous and caring about the people whom he favors and who are loyal to him. His relationship with Robin is a prominent example of this attitude. 
> 
> If you have already noticed, I often make references to the real people from King Richard’s entourage – his favorites on the Third Crusade: they are Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, and Count Henry de Champagne, the nephew of both Richard the Lionheart and Philippe of France. I’m trying to portray them close to historical reality.
> 
> On the show, it is assumed that Robin was unconditionally loyal to King Richard and had a very close relationship with his liege. 
> 
> In this story/novel, they also have a close relationship: Richard loves and favors Robin more than others, which strengthens Robin’s loyalty to the king. The king’s influence over Robin becomes apparent during their long conversation: at times Robin blanches, at times his face is burning with shame, and at times he is embarrassed, which is a rare thing for our hero who is so full of himself. Richard and Robin are portrayed not only as a king and his subject, but also as a mentor and a protégé; they are also friends as far as bonds of friendship can bound the king and his subject.
> 
> I didn’t want to make my Richard a stupid jerk as he was on the show. Otherwise it becomes unclear how Robin could fight against Prince John so fiercely! In this story/novel, the accent is made on Richard’s role in Robin’s life and his friendly affection for Robin, which explains Robin’s deep emotional attachment to his king.  
> King Richard the Lionheart plays a very important role in this story – there is the triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy, and the dark mysteries of the past play out with the ongoing cast of characters, with the king being in the center of all events.
> 
> I wanted to portray the villagers' attitude to Guy and Marian after their marriage, and I also showed the mixed perception of Robin Hood by the people. Not everyone likes Robin, even if he is a hero.
> 
> In this chapter, Guy saves Marian as the sheriff commands to pursue and capture the Nightwatchman in the woods, but she doesn't know that he already knows her secret. As you probably suspect, Marian and Guy will have a frank conversation and very soon.


	8. Confessions

**Chapter 8**

**Confessions**

After the affectionate farewell with the Earl of Buckingham, Sheriff Vaisey returned to the study room and shut the door behind himself. He walked to the desk and stood there, staring at Guy with an impassive face. A heavy silence reigned in the chamber.

A profound, angry melancholy gripped Guy, as though he had been wrapped in a tapestry of mourning. "My lord, what is going on?" he asked after a long pause.

"Many important things are happening," the sheriff responded calmly. "Prince John is establishing new contacts in Normandy and Aquitaine, as well as in other territories of the Angevin Empire."

Guy frowned. "You didn't tell me about that."

"Gisborne, I am informing you about everything you need to know. Don't forget your place."

"I am sorry, my lord." The henchman tried to sound as apologetic as he could.

Vaisey looked into Guy's eyes. "Prince John is growing more and more anxious that we haven't found Robin Hood yet. We are planning to move to the next stage of the Shah-Mat plan very soon, but we don't know where Hood is." He scowled. "Do you understand why we need to find Hood, Gizzy?"

Guy nodded. "I know that Hood can again ruin all our plans."

"At least you understand something," Vaisey said, barely keeping his temper. "When damn you will you become yourself? When will I see the old Guy whom I met in Normandy many years ago?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You understand everything, Gisborne! Don't lie to me!"

"My lord, I…" Guy stumbled with words; he feared the sheriff at that moment.

Vaisey smiled with a simple, unfettered smile. "Calm down, Gisborne. Don't be so nervous without any reason. I am not going to kill you or punish you." His features changed into a kind of light wistfulness. "You know that I have always had a special fondness for you, my dear boy, my almost son."

Guy managed a weak smile. "I have always been grateful to you."

"You and I have formed a precious bond, and we are meant to work together," the sheriff retorted with almost a tender smile, which could have been rarely seen on his face.

"Yes, my lord." Guy was amazed every time Vaisey told him something like that.

Gisborne lowered his head and sighed. The sheriff came to him and put his hand on Guy's shoulder. Guy lifted his eyes, his eyes locking with his master's orbs. Vaisey's eyes were neither cruel, nor angry, nor even sad: only unfathomably empty. Then one of the sheriff's eyes winked, and Guy gasped for air, feeling as if the world had spun away and the sea had rushed up to swallow him.

"The situation is serious," Vaisey said flatly, looking right into Guy's eyes. "We must do everything to capture Hood and find the queen's bastard." With a sneer on his face, he added, "If we fail to meet Prince John's demands, we will have to somehow explain why we failed, my boy." His hand tightened savagely on Guy's arm, a fierce rage clawing through him. "I am not going to lose the prince's favor. Perhaps I will have to do something… It is my word against yours, and who knows what I can say?"

"I am loyal to you. I am always at your disposal, my lord Sheriff. You know that I am not as brilliant as you are in… inventing crafty schemes and plans, but I will do everything you order me." Guy's features remained impassive, though he could have screamed in indignation. He flattered Vaisey and praised him, injuring his own pride and not knowing how to pacify his master in another way.

"Gisborne, my dear boy," the sheriff snarled softly, the look on his face murderous, but he was smiling at his young protégé. "I love when you are so obedient in my presence. You know that I will always take care of you, Gizzy." He patted the leather shoulder of the younger man, tracing Guy's chest with his short fingers and lingering his touch on Guy's heart; then he took his hand away. "It is so sad that you are married, my boy. I don't want to share your loyalty to me with anyone else."

"I am always at your side, milord." A shadow of worry drifted over Guy. He often didn't understand the ways Vaisey's mind was working in, as well as the older man's true intentions and feelings. Even though he had served to Vaisey for so long, the sheriff still was a dark enigma for Guy.

The sheriff smiled. "When you are like you are now, I am ready to do many things for you, Guy. I am even ready to ignore what Lord Buckingham can do and deal with the matter," he said unexpectedly, addressing to his henchman in a personal manner.

"And what can Lord Buckingham do to me?" Guy asked anxiously.

Vaisey shrugged slightly. "The Earl of Buckingham envies you, my boy." He smiled at Guy's puzzled expression. "You know that Prince John likes Buckingham, but he likes me much more than the other Black Knights. You, Gizzy, are always at my side, while Buckingham is not with us. Buckingham is waging a contest with you for my favor in the Black Knights Club." It sounded like a joke, but he wasn't going to tell Guy the truth.

"Oh," Guy breathed, puzzled to the core.

"Prince John gives Buckingham only very simple tasks to do, like sending him to Normandy to collect funds from our new allies and supporters," Vaisey continued. "Unlike you, Buckingham has never been sent on the most vital missions, like killing our beloved King Richard."

Guy didn’t think that Buckingham’s current mission – establishing and cultivating new contacts with Poitevin and Norman nobles to sway them to Prince John’s side – was a trivial and minor one; he chose not to comment on Vaisey’s false words. "But I didn't kill the king – I failed."

"You will have a chance if you don't disappoint Prince John and me, your master and protector," Vaisey soothed, but his expression was sneering, his tone mocking. "Be loyal to me, my boy. Stay at my side, and I will make you a God together with me." He smiled enigmatically.

Guy swallowed hard. "My loyalty is with you. I gave my allegiance to you many years ago."

"We both have a hunger for power and wealth, Guy," the sheriff continued in the same personal manner. "But you must trim yourself with a diet of absolute obedience to me and your share of the bloodbath. Your fate is to be with me and do what I let you do, and I will permit you a lot, my boy."

"Yes, my lord." Guy felt humiliated again. Vaisey had always demanded obedience from him, and he had always given it to his master.

"I have a pleasant view of affairs for the rest of the evening," Vaisey informed.

Guy's eyes swiveled towards his master with suspicion. "What do you mean, my lord?"

"Wait a moment, Gisborne. I am going to show you." Vaisey glanced at the door, a malicious smile curving his lips. "Guards! Guards! Bring our prisoner here!"

"We have new prisoners?" Gisborne was dumbfounded.

"I have a surprise for you," the sheriff announced, a triumphal smile hovering over his lips. "I have found the priest who served in Locksley many years ago when you were banished from the village. It is the same man whom Hood's arrow injured when you were almost hanged for his mischief."

"But he is surely dead now," Guy said in disbelief.

"No, no. He is alive." The sheriff laughed. "But he will be dead soon."

The door flung open, and the guards dragged the old man with grizzled hair in the chamber. One of the guards seized hold of a lock of the captive's hair, jerking his head back, and the priest screamed.

"You are worms and villains," the priest moaned. "You have no right to arrest a man of God and torture him! Your souls will be eternally damned! You will burn in the hellfire!"

"You tried to kill the Bishop of Hereford. You are a low criminal, and you are sentenced to death," the sheriff declared, his eyes flying to Guy. "The Bishop of Hereford, our old friend, asked me to help him to capture the priest who served in his abbey and tried to kill the bishop." He smiled. "And my guards tracked him down and brought him here."

"I didn't try to kill the Bishop of Hereford," the priest protested. "I only tried to protect a young woman, one of the local parishioners. The bishop abducted her."

"Lies! Lies!" Vaisey laughed.

A terrified Guy shuddered in horror. He knew very well that the Bishop of Hereford had a doubtful reputation in Herefordshire and adjacent shires; the bishop was allegedly accused of physically abusing and harassing his parishioners. Guy was inclined to believe in the churchman's words.

The sheriff's guards laughed outright, and one of them punched the captive.

Guy remained quiet, but inside he felt the everlasting emptiness filling his heart. The sight of the miserable old priest turned his heart inside out. He was glad that Allan didn't witness that.

Vaisey laughed maliciously. "Did it hurt when I put you on the rack today?" he inquired. "It should. My torture tools left a fine mark of God on you."

"You are a wicked sinner, my Lord Sheriff. You will go to hell and your soul will burn in the eternal hellfire after your death! Repent of your sins while it is not late yet!" the priest appealed to Vaisey.

Guy stepped back with a snort of disgust. He was utterly shocked. Numbness overcame him. His heart began to race. The dreadful picture in front of his eyes made his blood freeze. It was terribly wrong. Panic welled up inside him as he looked at the old priest, whom he recognized.

"My lord, let's release this man," Guy offered, shaking his head in terror. "If you wanted to make a surprise for me, I thank you for it, but… but… I think it is not what I wish."

Vaisey gave a scornful glance to Guy. "Humanity is a weakness." His ugly face lit up with a large smile. "If you don't want that, Gisborne, then you don't need to watch. But today I was deprived of entertainment when we missed the Nightwatchman in the forest. Now I need… to do something else."

The priest, his head still pulled back by the guard's grip, gave a cry of amazement. "Gisborne? Guy of Gisborne? How is that possible?"

"It is the little Guy whom you can remember, you old fool," Vaisey replied. "He grew up and became the large Guy. He wears only black leather and does everything I order him."

"Milord, please release him," Guy repeated his request, though it sounded more like a plea.

"No, I won't, Gizzy." The sheriff walked to the priest. "I told you that I need to entertainment today. I wanted the Nightwatchman's blood, but we failed to capture our night hero. But I still crave to spill blood." He broke into violent laughter. "I am the Sheriff of Nottingham! This man attempted to murder the Bishop and became a criminal! Don't I have a right to kill him, right? A clue: yes."

"Lord Vaisey, you are casting yourself into eternal darkness," the priest stated, his voice edged with sheer disdain. "When you die, you cannot surpass God, so you will be eternally damned."

Vaisey outstretched his arms, laughing with a diabolic laugh. "Blah-di-blah-di-blah! I will overthrow Heaven itself and will make myself lord over its ruin," he shot back. "Do you believe me? Should you believe me, my precious people? A clue: no."

The guards burst out into a loud laughter. They apparently enjoyed the torments of the priest.

Guy felt his knees trembling. He had always been horrified with the sheriff's bloodlust that at times exceeded Guy's own and that of many other knights Guy had ever met. Guy wished to stop that, but he knew that if Vaisey had set his mind on killing someone, it would have been better not to interfere with his plans. In the deepest places of his heart, more scars appeared at that moment.

The guard released the priest and turned him with his face to the sheriff. Vaisey sprung forward and stopped near the prisoner. The same guard took the priest's head between his hands, twisting it up towards the ceiling. Another guard pulled the sword from the coals in the fireplace and advanced a few paces towards the prisoner, handing the weapon to the sheriff.

"This is so sweet!" Vaisey gave an exclamation of excitement. "Now I will punish the sinner who tried to kill the man of God and whom Robin Hood failed to kill so many years ago." His gaze flitted to Guy. "This worm offended you, Gisborne. You told me that the priest from the Locksley church, where he had served at that time, had supported the villagers in their intention to banish you from Locksley."

Guy nodded. "Yes. He supported it."

"Now we will punish him for his sins," the sheriff announced.

The guards shared bewildered glances, clueless why Robin Hood was mentioned.

"Robin of Locksley never tried to kill me!" the priest shouted, his expression frightened and lost.

Vaisey eyed the sword he held in his hands. "Robin Hood almost killed you, my dear friend, though he injured you accidentally. It was Hood's arrow that wounded you on that night. Yet, my dear Guy was almost hanged for the mischievous tricks of the spoiled brat who now lives in the forest."

"It was Guy of Gisborne!" the priest persisted.

"You are wrong. It was Robin Hood's arrow. This thief lied to everyone," Guy's cold voice resonated.

"You see, unfortunate man, Hood can also lie," the sheriff muttered.

Vaisey drew back the sword, and the flaming tip flashed in front of the priest's eyes for a moment. Twice Vaisey flicked it before the eyes of his victim, and then lunged forward. The prisoner started to squeal and writhed in pain, but someone's hands gripped his skull tightly and held it helplessly.

"My lord, maybe we shouldn't do that," Guy tried to stop the madness again.

"Gizzy, I told you that I would share my conquered realm with you only if you obey me and don't disappoint me," Vaisey reminded. "Don't disappoint me, you idiot."

Guy's eyes clenched shut involuntarily, but he heard the hiss of the iron as it cut through the eyeball, and the shattering cries from the priest's wounded body, which doubled in agony as Vaisey stabbed his sword into the second eye. Then Guy heard a howl of agony.

Guy forced himself to open his eyes, his gaze fixing at the priest's bloodied body, the sword protruding out of the prisoner's stomach.

"Bury him somewhere in the forest," Vaisey instructed. "He doesn't deserve to have a proper burial."

The sheriff laughed as the guards dragged the corpse from the chamber. Guy also watched the scene, struggling with himself not to vomit on the spot. The sickness in Guy's stomach seemed to grow, and he tried to speak, but his mouth was suddenly too dry.

"My lord, can I go home?" Guy asked at last.

"Yes, you can go to your little leper into her bed, Gizzy. But aren't you going to thank me for taking revenge on this priest?"

Absent-mindedly, Guy looked at his master, trying to regain his composure. "I am grateful to you, my lord. I haven't expected… that you will be so… attentive to my past."

Vaisey's eyes sparkled wickedly. "I am very attentive to your past, much more than you can imagine."

"Thank you," Guy returned shortly, wishing to leave the chamber and the castle as soon as possible.

As Guy left the room, he asked Allan to arrange the priest’s burial. He gave Allan coins to buy a coffin for the churchman and instructed to dig a grave somewhere on the edge of the forest. He loathed the priest, but he didn’t hate the man with his entire being, like he hated Robin and Malcolm, whom he blamed for his troubles. The priest couldn’t have a Christian burial without Vaisey’s knowledge, but at least Guy could supply him with a coffin before putting the man to eternal rest.

§§§

Guy returned to Locksley very late after he had spent more than two hours at the castle. He was too much stressed out after his long and mysterious conversation with the sheriff and the murder of the priest, so that he lost all his appetite and refused to have a supper. He immediately retired to the study room, where he planned to spend the whole evening in solitude. Guy didn't come to bed even after the midnight. He suffered from insomnia, his mind replaying a scene after scene when Vaisey killed the priest and when he encountered the Nightwatchman tonight in the forest.

He tried to shun the memories of the priest's murder out of his mind. He had to forget the atrocities Vaisey forced him to witness on that evening, for every thought about the priest's death and torments made him loathe and hate Vaisey more. He didn't care about the priest, but he thought that they shouldn't have killed him in such a sadistic way. Vaisey was too cruel. It was too much.

Guy was thinking of Marian and her secrets. In the days after the consummation of their matrimony, Guy was mainly silent and contemplative. As Marian and he shared the master bedroom – Guy's old bedroom where they spent their first night together, Guy had a chance to have a look at the scar on Marian's abdomen when in the evening he watched her undress. It was when he caught a glimpse of a long scar in the lower part of her stomach. As he noticed it, his heart skipped a beat as the realization dawned on him – Marian was the Nightwatchman.

He spent half of the night drinking wine and staring into the flames, thinking of Marian and her supposed betrayal. Marian had fooled all of them and that she had betrayed him, her husband. There was nobody who could defy the sheriff, except for Robin Hood and his gang; Robin protested against Vaisey publicly, insulting and mocking his enemies. The Nightwatchman had started its business of helping the poor long before Robin had returned from the Crusade, and had worked alone but obviously knew Robin Hood. Guy wondered when Hood had learned about Marian's secret and what else the outlaw had known about his wife. There were too many secrets in Marian’s life, and he didn’t like that.

"If you are the Nightwatchman, then I saved you today, Marian," Guy muttered to himself, looking down into his goblet. "You betrayed me, and you also betrayed and fooled Vaisey and Prince John. If you are the Nightwatchman, then I don't know you at all. Then you deceived and mocked me for so long, while I courted you and fell in love with you."

Guy was emotionally estranged from Marian in the past days. He treated his wife differently: he was colder and formal, but he wasn't cruel and rude, ignoring her on many occasions and demonstrating his indifference to her. He shared a dinner with her after his return from the castle and then silently excused himself, heading to the study room and staying there till midnight. He often was overindulged with wine that helped him ease his concerns and dampen his pain.

Guy also couldn't deny that he admired _Marian's boldness and cunning_ because no other woman in the world was able to defy Vaisey, wrapping the clever, cruel Sheriff of Nottingham around her little finger. That woman was his wife, a one-of-kind woman, and he was secretly proud of her, although he knew that he would never acknowledge that to someone else – only to himself.

 _Marian did what Guy himself hadn’t done yet in spite of his true feelings for his master – he secretly despised the sheriff_. Guy couldn't deny that he hated the sheriff for the humiliation he had put him through, and, oddly enough, Guy believed that Marian's achievement served as a sort of Vaisey's punishment for his mistreatment of Guy. Deep down, his mood was strangely elevated every time he imagined the expression of horror and defeat on Vaisey's usually smug face if the sheriff had learned that a woman – a leper – had managed to fool him for so many years.

There were many things that Guy didn't understand. He would look for answers and get them; he would make Marian confess all her sins.

Guy was mostly troubled by the Nightwatchman's association with Robin Hood. Hood had saved the Nightwatchman from Gisborne on the day when he had stabbed Marian. Robin Hood and his gang had come to save the Nightwatchman. Then, on the same evening, Hood had turned berserk with rage and had mercilessly killed more than thirty Sheriff's guards near a cave as the outlaws had been cornered. Why had Hood been so angry if he hadn’t known whom Guy had stabbed?

The Nightwatchman had once saved Hood by distracting Guy and the sheriff from Robin who had been dangling over the snake pit, letting the outlaw have enough time for escape. It seemed that Hood had known the Nightwatchman's real identity at that time. Guy wondered whether Marian herself had told Hood the truth about her adventures or the outlaw had uncovered her secret. Many facts foretold that the Nightwatchman had always been in league with Robin Hood, but Guy didn't want to believe in that.

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't expose Marian as the Nightwatchman to the sheriff because it would mean her death and his own end. He would do anything to protect her – she was his wife and he loved her; he also had to do everything to protect his wellbeing, everything he had managed to achieve after his return to Nottingham. But the worst was that his marriage was based on lies, and he didn't know whether he would be able to trust her and forgive her.

Guy knew that he had to confront Marian sooner or later, but he didn't know what to say to her. Angry bile clogged his throat as he carefully rehearsed the accusing speech he wanted to make before her, but every evening he postponed the explosion. His attitude towards Marian changed from attentive and loving to formal and cold, even impersonal, because he felt betrayed.

After Guy had emptied two more goblets of wine, he began to think about his new important mission –finding the mysterious Queen Mother’s golden boy. With great difficulty, Guy prepared the long list of possible suspects; he chose all the noblemen whose age was between twenty-three and twenty-six and who were favored by King Richard or at least were the king’s loyal knights. Guy had no idea who was the queen’s bastard. There was also a chance that Queen Eleanor’s secret son had died in childhood or that he had been killed by the Saracens if he had accompanied King Richard to the Holy Land.

Guy poured out a goblet of wine and emptied it in one huge gulp. Then he poured out another goblet and stared into the red liquid, brooding over the identity of the queen’s son. Finally, Guy admitted that his whole list could have been wrong, and that enraged him. The more he thought of the mission, the more he disliked it because he considered it impossible to find the bastard. Yet, there was also an instinctive feeling that he had probably known the man in real life: perhaps, he had met the golden boy at the royal court in London or in Poitiers where he had been only once many years ago.

Guy emptied his goblet and slammed it at the table as black rage slashed through him. “Damn you, Vaisey! How can I find this man when I have so little information about him?” he said aloud as if he were talking to the sheriff. “Damn Prince John and his hate for his mother!”

Guy feared Prince John’s wrath that would surely be directed towards the sheriff and him in the case of their failure. The mission seemed to be utterly important for the prince, and Vaisey could lose John’s favor after Guy’s failure to kill King Richard and the failure to find the bastard. At the same time, Guy dreaded the consequences of the golden boy’s murder: he was doomed to die a cruel, painful death of a traitor if King Richard and Queen Eleanor ever found out the identity of a murderer. Yet, he had already become a traitor after the Saracen raid in Acre, and that eased his fears a little bit.

Finally, Guy decided that he had to go to bed. He was physically exhausted, and he had so many things to do tomorrow. He needed to sleep at least for a little bit. He abruptly jumped to his feet and went out of the room and hurried upstairs. Unexpectedly, he stumbled into Thornton on the stairs.

"Look out, you old goat!" Guy growled.

Thornton lowered his head, submissively. "I am sorry, Master Guy."

Guy was amazed. "Why are you here, Thornton? It is almost the middle of the night."

The old servant shook his head. "Insomnia."

"Exactly my case," Guy barked.

"Master, you need to rest to be fresh and wide awake tomorrow."

"It is not that I don't want to sleep – I just cannot," Guy said with a sigh. He rubbed his cheek. "I will return to the study room."

"Then, I wish you to have a good time there."

"Bring me a decanter of wine and an empty goblet."

Thornton submissively inclined his head. "A moment, Sir Guy."

"Hurry up, Thornton. Otherwise, I will fire you and throw you out of the house," Guy threatened.

Thornton sighed with relief when he was finally free from his duties. He walked to the servants' quarters and entered his small room that was dark and stuffy. He came to the table and lit a candle. As he swept his eyes over the room, he gasped in astonishment at the sight of the tall hooded figure standing near the window. The night guest wore a ragged brown cloak that enveloped every curve of his tall, lean male body; his head and face were hooded. He was Sir Malcolm Fitzooth of Locksley, the presumably-deceased Lord of Locksley and the Earl of Huntingdon – Robin's father.

Thornton wasn't even shocked to see his real master in his room because he expected a new visit after his master’s prolonged absence. The figure moved towards Thornton and approached the only chair in the corner. The man seated himself in a high-back chair, stretching his long thin legs on the floor and staring at Thornton from beneath the shadow of his hood.

Thornton bowed deeply. "Lord Malcolm," he greeted quietly.

"Hello, Thornton," Malcolm responded in a low voice.

"You haven't been here for so long!"

"I was out of England. Take a seat, but keep your voice low."

"Of course, my lord," the servant said quieter.

"You must be tired."

The old servant bowed again and sat down on the bed. "I am fine. Thank you."

"You are welcome."

"How can I help you, milord?"

"Robin," Malcolm said, warmth creeping into his heart. "Where is he?"

"Master Robin returned from the Holy Land with glory, and we all were happy to see him alive," Thornton informed, a feeling of nostalgia sweeping over him as he recalled the day of Robin's return. "He found his people oppressed and starving, his estates no longer prospering. He openly defied the sheriff and was outlawed. Now he lives in Sherwood with his gang of outlaws."

"I already know this," Malcolm stated tonelessly.

"What else do you want to know?"

"How is Robin? I haven't seen him for so long."

Thornton smiled. "Master Robin returned from the Crusade a grown-up man and he didn't look like a weary Crusader. Although his face has kept its boyish look, he is no longer that skinny boy whom you saw last time years ago near the pond in the village. But he still looks younger than his real age."

"How does my son look like?" Malcolm inquired, his voice shaking with emotion.

"Master Robin is very handsome and charming. He is a dashing young man, cocky and full of himself. His cheeky smile charms everyone. He is very slender, yet muscular enough. His hair is of the same sandy color as yours are; a few locks of hair fall roguishly over his forehead."

"He looks more like a Saxon lord than a Norman one," Malcolm concluded.

"Yes, my lord. He took more after his Saxon heritage."

"My son…" The old man was almost on the verge of tears. "I miss him so much."

"You would be charmed if you saw him, Lord Malcolm."

"I have no doubt! Robin is a true charmer!"

"War has changed Master Robin: he has become less arrogant, more human and less spoiled."

"Good." Malcolm doubted that Robin had been unaffected by the brutality and horrors he had seen in the Holy Land.

"He was a good boy, and he has become a good man."

"I am not surprised that Robin chose an open rebellion over a long-term game against the sheriff – it is pure Robin's style. He has always been impulsive, foolhardy, hotheaded, audacious, and brave. It is his southern blood, rebellious blood," Malcolm summarized.

"Sire, you mean that…"

"It is the truth. You and I know that."

"Master Robin… took much–" Thornton broke off, then coughed, “not after you, milord.”

"Certainly, Robin took his rebellious blood not after the Huntingdons," the cloaked man spelled out slowly and emphatically. "And, honestly, that often frightens me. This blood is great, but it often boils, and my son lands in trouble. He has been courting danger since childhood!”

"Your son always does what he thinks is right."

"I am worried that no one has seen Robin in the villages for so long." The hooded man broke into a violent cough. His cough receded, he inhaled sharply and went on. “There are rumors that he is dead.”

“I have heard the same.”

“What have you heard from Guy of Gisborne?" He almost spat Guy's name.

"Nothing interesting. Master Guy doesn't know whether Master Robin is. It seems that they are searching for him, but without any results."

His anger was bubbling in Malcolm, hard and deep. "Guy is not your Master,” he snapped angrily. "Robin is your true and only Master. It is Gisborne who must be outlawed and must see how good it is to live in the forest, eating squirrels and berries every day."

Thornton lowered his eyes. "I am sorry. Master Robin will always be my Master. It is just that I have to call Gisborne my Master, I hope, not forever."

"It is fine. I understand that you have to pretend," Malcolm said soothingly. "Never have even a shadow of a doubt that the Huntingdon lands will be restored on Robin’s name.”

"I am looking forward to the day of Master Robin’s return to Locksley as our lord, my lord."

"As long as Richard Plantagenet is the King of England, everything will be alright for my dear Robin, if he... is alive." The man cleared his throat and abruptly raised his head up, his hood revealing an upper part of his scarred face. "Several weeks ago, I found the outlaws’ camp in the woods." He sneered. "I know the forest much better than Gisborne's guards and hounds."

"Did you see Master Robin there?"

"No, I didn't. The camp is dusty and deserted."

"But where is he? Is he dead?"

"I hope Robin is alive." The guest drew his cloak more closely about him. He felt cold with fear at the thought that Robin could be dead. "When did you last see my son?"

Thornton was silent for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts. “Master Robin came here around four months ago. I met him inside the manor, in a very late hour, as he didn't want to be discovered," he enlightened. "He demanded that I give him access to his old bedroom. I saw him take many things in his bag, including his luxurious silk and brocade attire which he wore at courts in London and Poitou."

"You didn't meet Robin more, did you?"

"No, I didn't. He didn't come back."

"Interesting." Malcolm leaned back in his chair, his brain digesting the news. "If Robin needed his courtly attire, then he planned to attend the official events. Maybe he headed to court."

Thornton looked horrified. "No, no! Prince John would have killed him then!"

"I mean another court."

The servant smiled. "Oh, it would be great!"

Malcolm let out a muffled laugh. "I don't think that he went there, but I can always check. _One person_ should definitely know where Robin has gone and whether he is fine." He sighed in frustration. "If _she_ doesn't know anything about my son’s whereabouts, then I will be in despair because it would mean that something bad happened to Robin and he might be really dead.”

"Don't lose hope, my lord."

"If I fail to find Robin next week, I will have to leave England very soon."

"If I learn something, I will tell you."

"Thank you, Thornton."

"You know that I will do everything for Master Robin."

"You have always been most loyal to me and my son."

Thornton felt tears sting his eyes, and he blinked. "I love Master Robin so much."

"I know, and I thank you for being here with my son and for him."

"You have nothing to thank me for, milord."

"I have already learned that Sir Edward of Knighton died a hero’s death for King Richard," Malcolm continued sorrowfully. "He was a good man and my friend. He always was so loyal to her and to me."

"Sir Edward's death was tragic. He was a very good man."

"Edward meant a lot to me. Knowing that I had to hide, he tried to give Robin some guidance of an elder man and supported him; he was loyal and kept our secret until his death," Malcolm whispered. "I am in mourning for him. He didn't deserve to be killed by foul traitors."

"Sir Edward died for our king. He had an honorable and glorious end."

"May his soul rest in eternal peace…" Malcolm crossed himself.

"May he rest in peace," Thornton echoed.

Malcolm gave a small laugh. "Today I observed a great show in the forest. Vaisey and Gisborne tried to capture the Nightwatchman. But they have no idea whom they have been pursuing so long."

"Do you know who the Nightwatchman is?"

"I know, but I won't interfere. I care only about Robin and his wellbeing.”

“Of course, milord,” Thornton said somewhat uncomfortably.

“Now I want to know where my son is; I need him urgently."

"What happened? Is there any new danger for the young Master?"

"It is likely." Malcolm jumped to his feet and walked over to the servant. "I finally found my youngest son Archer, and I didn't like what I saw.” He sighed. “But it is only my fault."

Thornton gasped in shock. "Did you tell him the truth?"

"Yes, I did, but, of course, only the truth about his birth. I fear there might be a severe confrontation between Robin and Archer." Malcolm placed a hand on Thornton's shoulder. "Archer disappointed me. He is not as noble, honest, and compassionate as Robin has always been. There is much goodness in Archer, but he lives only for himself, caring only about his interests. He is a cheat and a knave."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"Archer might find Robin and try to harm him."

Thornton looked terrified. "Oh!"

"It is only my fault. I made too many mistakes in my life. One hundred years is not enough to atone for what I did." The hooded man hung his head; his voice was edged with regret.

"How can I help you?" Thornton didn't need to ask anything else. He knew the grave secret of the Hundingdons and the Gisbornes for many years, keeping it from the world.

Malcolm smiled. "I will tell you if I need something else. Thank you."

"I am always at your disposal."

"I have learned everything about Robin's return and his life in the woods. I am so proud of my son – he has become a great man."

The old man smiled benevolently. "Master Robin helped so many people here. He is the hero."

"I learned that Gisborne and Lady Marian are married," Malcolm growled. "It is sad news."

"Everyone was shocked."

His anger spiked, and Malcolm spoke wrathfully, “Marian made such a wrong choice of her husband. I am sure that Sir Edward turned in his grave as she spoke her marriage vows. Edward wanted Marian and Robin to marry and be happy! Gisborne will never be a better man than my Robin is, and I don't understand Marian.” He stilled for a moment and sighed. “But I don’t care whom Robin will wed as long as he is safe."

"I understand, my lord."

"Maybe I should tell Robin the truth."

The servant shook his head in disagreement. "I don't think so. The truth will break your son's heart."

"The truth is not bad, although it is not what Robin will easily accept.”

"This is not only your secret," Thornton pointed out. "And Master Robin's life might be in danger if someone learns the truth."

Malcolm came to Thornton and looked at him, his face partly uncovered by the hood. The old steward didn't flinch at the sight of his lord’s scarred face. The hooded man gazed wonderingly into the older man's eyes, searching for support and agreement, but found nothing.

"You are right, Thornton. I won't utter a word. I have no right.” Malcolm was immensely tired of lying and hiding. He didn’t want to stay away from Robin whom he loved so much, and he was disgusted with his own weakness and cowardice. "Robin will despise me if he learns that I abandoned him, that I was not with him when he needed me, even though I had to do that in order to protect him."

"It was the only thing you could do, my lord."

"I know, Thornton. But I often want to reveal the truth to Robin, although I cannot do this without _her_ permission; I also understand that it is very dangerous."

"Master Robin should know nothing."

Malcolm looked at the window; it was still dark outside, a few hours before dawn. "I have to leave now." His voice turned lower. "Keep our secret."

"Your secret is safe with me." Thornton bowed. "Godspeed, sire."

Malcolm admonished, "Take care of our people and Locksley."

"I will, milord."

Malcolm removed his hood, and looked at Thornton with eyes narrowing to slits. “Thornton, I exhort you to never forget that Robin of Locksley is your only Master. My son is and will always be the only rightful Earl of Huntingdon and the Lord of Locksley as I am technically dead and will remain dead forever,” he spoke in an admonitory tone, but with an apparent note of warning. "Never betray us or play with _us_ , Thornton. Otherwise, _they_ will slash your throat, or I myself will kill you. _We_ won’t tolerate divided loyalties.”

"I will always be at your side, my lord. I love Master Robin, and I will never hurt him." The old servant lowered his head in obedience and respect.

"I believe you." Malcolm cast a quick glance at Thornton, and put on his hood again.

Malcolm of Locksley marched to the window. He climbed on the window-ledge, giving Thornton a small smile; then he turned around and jumped down, vanishing into the inky darkness. He headed to the small cottage on the outskirts of Sherwood, near the outer circle where he had often lived when he had arrived in Locksley and had met with Sir Edward of Knighton to make inquiries about Robin’s life.

Thornton was relieved that his real master had left. He loved Malcolm and was utterly loyal to him and Robin. Yet, there were moments when the old servant feared Malcolm, like it was today. Malcolm had once threatened him before, warning him about the necessity to keep their secret. Now everything was more serious: Malcolm feared that Gisborne could learn about their mystery and use it against Robin, and if Thornton had let that happen, he would be dead at his master’s hand.

The old servant let out a sigh. He swore that he would never say anything about the dark mysteries of the past. But he wasn’t happy that he was the keeper of the mystery because it was a dangerous, potentially lethal thing for him and many others, but more for Robin. He also prayed that Robin was alive and unscratched. If Robin were alive and restored to his lands, Thornton would be content and happy.

§§§

Several days passed since the events in the forest. Darkness engulfed Locksley as the sun set behind the trees of the old English forest, and it seemed to deepen as the late afternoon advanced. Locksley Manor, Marian found it hard to sleep and lay in her large bed for hours, unable to fall asleep. At midnight, just as she was beginning to fall into a doze at last, she heard the sound of galloping horses, and her body tensed. Then, reflecting that they were most probably Guy and Allan returning from Nottingham, she relaxed and, closing her eyes, waited for Guy to come to the bedroom.

Marian pretended to be asleep when she finally heard Guy burrow down under the blanket. Suddenly, she felt an urge to climb out of the bed and leave. She waited until his breathing became even, before sliding from her bed. Quickly stepping into her linen underskirt and draping a fur coverlet around her shoulders, Marian made a movement, but then she stopped as she felt Guy’s hand on her shoulder. She winced in pain as his grip on her was so hard that she felt all the breath go out of her.

Guy was holding a candle in his other hand, and she could see his face contorted in anger and his eyes glittering in danger. “What are you doing, Marian? Are you again going to do the Nightwatchman business?” he said through clenched teeth as he turned her to face him.

Marian was unable to withstand the cruel intensity and hardness of his gaze, and she averted her eyes. “Guy, I… I…” She stumbled with words.

“Will you deny that?”

She shook her head in defeat, still not looking at him. “No, I won’t.”

“Look at me when I talk to you,” he commanded, his tone harsh.

She turned to face him and took a deep, painful breath. “What do you want?”

“I want to know the truth. Only the truth,” Guy hissed, his steel blue eyes darkening with rage.

Marian held his gaze, looking directly into his eyes. She was terrified and didn’t speak, thinking how to handle the situation. She didn’t know how he had learned the truth, but it didn’t matter at that moment. The only thing that could save her was the truth, at least about her secret life as the Nightwatchman. She hoped that he would understand her.

Her heart hammering, she forced herself to speak. “You are right, Guy. I am the Nightwatchman.”

“Wasn’t that enough for you that we chased after you in the woods several days ago?” Guy asked roughly. “I suspected that you were the Nightwatchman and deliberately misled the guards.”

She blinked in surprise. “Thank you that you gave me a chance to disappear into the woods. How did you learn that I am the Nightwatchman?” She tried to make her voice sound as neutral as possible.

“The scar on your belly,” Guy said shortly, an evil sneer on his lips. “Did you think that I won’t see it on the wedding night? Did you think that I am feeble-minded?”

Marian blanched as the blood drained from her cheeks. She should have predicted that he would be able to figure out the truth after the night of their first intimacy. What a fool she was to forget about the scar! She couldn’t alienate Guy now and must be very careful with her words. She desperately tried to look calm and indifferent, but, in reality, she was so frightened that she only wished to escape from Guy’s icy glance accusing her of betrayal and lies. She felt horrified as though she had heard the voice of a beast which never stilled even in the dead of night.

“Ah, I should have known beforehand,” she responded coldly.

Guy thought that he had been an utter, blind fool that he didn’t understand the true identity of the Nightwatchman earlier. Everything was so simple, but he had chased after Marian for many years, never even having a single thought that he had been looking for a woman, not a man, all the more a noblewoman. He had always known that Marian had cared for the poor, but he had never suspected that she was so cunning. Marian had duped not only Guy and the whole city but also Sheriff Vaisey, whose crafty mind seemed to know everything and look through everyone.

He narrowed his eyes. “You betrayed me,” he said in such a low voice that it vibrated in his chest.

His eyes sparkled with demonic fire; his gaze was deadly resolute and immensely cruel. It was the same gaze Marian remembered very well since the day when he had burnt Knighton Hall.

“I helped the people. Nothing more,” she protested.

“You betrayed me,” Guy reiterated. His tone was dangerously silken.

Guy’s last words about betrayal thinned Marian’s patience. It was unfair and wrong to accuse her of betrayal when Guy himself had lied to her about the king’s return months ago and probably had even tried to kill the king. Anger overwhelmed the walls of her heart and poured out to her bloodstream, and she wanted so much to hurt him for his lies.

Marian tossed her dark curls and looked into his eyes. “This country is torn apart by cruel and sadistic people who care only about their own selfish and empty interests – the ways of gaining power and wealth. These people make the English populace suffer and live in tyranny. They don’t care that the people starve to death and have no money to pay taxes. The truth is that honest people are outlawed while vile traitors rule the country. The nation has no future if such people like Vaisey have power.”

Unintentionally, Marian raised the stakes to dizzying heights. Her candidness was like salt in the wounds of a lash, and Guy turned furious at her honest words, his eyes narrowing to slits. He saw now who Marian was – she stood against everything that had become an essential part of his life in the past years. His blood simmering with anger, Guy raised his hand and slapped Marian, hard, his hand leaving a red mark on the white skin of her right cheek.

The punch was so strong that all Marian could hear inside her head was a loud sound. She staggered backwards and fell to the floor. Calmness and assurance were gone from her face that contorted in an agonized rictus. She had never seen such a demonic fire in his eyes that turned as dark as midnight. His lips thinned, his hands were clenched. He looked as if he were about to reach out for the hilt of his sword, but halfway there he stopped himself.

Guy’s face was red with anger when he stretched out his arm and pointed an accusatory finger at Marian. “Never talk to me in this tone, Marian!” he roared. “I give you my word that if you ever say something like this again, you will pay for that."

Marian shuddered with fear and rage. She jumped to her feet and stood before him, her chin high, her face falsely unconcerned. “I told you the truth. You wanted the truth, and now you have it.”

“At least now I know how treacherous your soul is,” he said, with a gesture of contempt.

“And what did I do, Guy?” She gave him a murderous glare. “I only helped the people who have no money to pay taxes. I couldn’t just sit and do my embroidery when my people were suffering and dying. If I did nothing, I would have been ashamed of myself.”

“Prince John orders to increase taxes. I have nothing to do with that,” he defended himself.

“If I am a woman, it doesn’t mean that I am a fool. My father was the Sheriff of Nottingham for many years, and I know how many decisions are taken and questions are solved.” She closed her eyes for a second to collect her thoughts, then opened them and stared at her husband. “The prince can give a guideline how much money he wants to be collected in different shires, but a sheriff decides what taxes to impose on the populace and when to collect them.”

“Marian, that I have never considered you a fool. You are intelligent and clever, and you have to understand that I have no authority over the sheriff. As the sheriff’s men, I must obey my lord and the official authorities: I must carry out Vaisey’s commands when to collect taxes and in which size.”

“Every command? Even to kill and chop off fingers, hands, and heads?” she asked sarcastically.

Marian’s words painfully struck Guy in his heart, as if she had put a sword through his chest, reminding him of Vaisey’s bloody lessons, which he had desperately wished to forget. He thought back to the moment in the distant past when Vaisey had given Guy his first lesson of killing in cold blood: he still remembered his first victim, time and date of the murder, as well as Vaisey’s satisfied face and his violent actions towards Guy himself. The sheriff had eagerly chopped off hands, fingers, and heads in front of Guy, stating that he had been honoring his young protégé by teaching him to enjoy bloodshed. The sheriff’s bloodlust had always horrified Guy.

Guy strode towards Marian, hot anger flaming in his darkening eyes that already glittered unnaturally. He didn’t approach her and stopped next to her, feeling the blood beat faster in his veins. “Never tell me these things! Never compare me with Vaisey! Never remind me of–” He broke off.

Shocked by his sudden outburst, she backed away from Guy. “I am sorry,” she said dazedly.

He saw that she was afraid of him. He took several steps back from her, leaving her enough space to feel more comfortable in his presence. “When and how did you decide to become the Nightwatchman?” He jumped to another subject.

“Seven years ago, my life was turned upside down,” Marian replied, trying to keep her voice steady, but a slight tremble was still evident. Many of her old memories were too painful for her. “Many things changed so quickly – Robin’s departure to the Holy Land and the cancellation of our betrothal, the deposition of my father, Vaisey’s arrival in Nottingham and the establishment of his brutal authority.”

“Marian, I have always been wondered why you were betrothed to Hood many years ago.”

She gave him a searching look, wondering why he had asked her about that. There was no anger in his expression, only a good deal of curiosity. “It is a long story,” she answered.

“I want to know everything.”

Marian glanced away. “I don’t like remembering many things from my past, including my betrothal to Robin because it ended… with heartbreak.”

“Such a gorgeous woman as you doesn’t deserve to be abandoned by a fool,” Guy opined.

“Maybe you are right,” she said, a sad smile playing on her lips. “As you know, Robin of Locksley once was my betrothed. My father and Sir Malcolm of Locksley arranged this betrothal when I was born, although neither Robin nor I knew about that for a long time.”

Guy recalled that his mother had once told him that Robin, Malcolm’s son, had been betrothed to Sir Edward’s daughter. Her story caused him much pain, but he craved to know about her life in the years when he had been banished from Locksley. “When did Hood propose?”

“My father informed Robin about our betrothal when he turned seventeen, while I still was in the darkness. At first, father wanted to know Robin’s opinion about the match before telling me about the arrangement, so that if Robin hadn’t wanted to marry me, I wouldn’t have been hurt by his rejection.”

“Your father sheltered you,” he inferred.

“Yes, he did. He loved me and tried to protect me.” She paused, shaking her head as if in disbelief that those events had ever happened. “Father… was delighted that Robin had approved of the match.”

Guy’s face hardened. “Sir Edward wanted you to marry Hood? Really?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Sir Malcolm was my father’s old friend, and father played an important role in Robin’s life after Sir Malcolm’s death. Father loved Robin and treated him like a son, although he disapproved of his mischievous ways and quite unusual habits for a nobleman.”

Guy scoffed. “Well, some of your father’s concerns were not groundless,” he said. “Hood has always had a heart of a low criminal, and when he grew up, he broke the law.”

"That's a lie!”. There was a flash of fury in Marian's eyes. "That's a lie!”

"A lie?” He laughed at her words. “Well, if you like to think so, then it's a lie. Perhaps I made it up.”

“Guy, I am not going to listen to your insinuations about Robin.”

“Fine, let’s talk about her betrothal to this thief,” he said, sneering at her.

She wanted to strangle him for insulting Robin, but she decided against expressing her anger and forced herself to calm down. “Robin Hood proposed to me immediately after he had learned about our betrothal. He told me that he wanted to wed me because we were good for each other and because he… wanted to be with me, not out of duty.” She sighed. “I was very happy and accepted his proposal.” She lowered her head; her cheeks were flushed a youthful pink.

“Go on. Don’t be embarrassed.” Guy looked away. His eyes were flashing with raw pain at the thought that Robin had ever played an important role in her life.

She sighed. “We had been betrothed for a year by the time King Richard ascended the throne. Robin went to London where he attended King Richard’s luxurious coronation. When he returned to Nottingham, he informed me that he had intended to join the Crusade despite our plans to marry in two months.” She trailed off, gathering her composure; her heart was beating faster. “I broke our betrothal, and soon Robin departed with the king to the Holy Land.” She drew a deep breath. “My dreams were ruined. My world turned to ash.” She sighed. “After Robin’s departure, I spent several months in my room, talking to no one and doing nothing.”

“You were young when so many things in your life changed. It must have been a difficult period for you.”

“It was not easy at all,” Marian murmured. “I was only sixteen years old when my life changed drastically. Robin departed to the Holy Land. Very soon, my father lost his position of the sheriff; he didn’t watch his back because he was worried about me and my health which was far from ideal.” She felt a nervous tremor running through her. “I was not myself at that time.”

“I understand your feelings,” Guy demurred. He instinctively clenched and unclenched his fists at the thought that Robin Hood had caused Marian so much pain in her early youth. “Go on,” he emboldened.

“It took me some time to adapt to these changes. I suddenly realized that it was time to grow up if I wanted to help the people and father to survive under Vaisey’s authority. I needed to be strong – stronger than my father and many others. I quickly understood that Vaisey’s actions and decisions had a destructive impact on the people and the whole shire.”

“And you invented the Nightwatchman, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I knew that I had to act, but I couldn’t work openly as Lady Marian of Knighton. I needed a disguise, and I chose to become the Nightwatchman.”

“Life is a cruel thing,” Guy murmured, deeply moved to his own surprise.

“Yes, it is.”

“You were only sixteen or seventeen, having only your aging father as your family.” He sighed ecstatically. “Sixteen! Such a tender age!”

“A tender age? You mean that I had to stay at home and do absolutely nothing, Guy?”

“I didn’t mean that, Marian. I wanted to say that you were so young when you started to play with the law. Did you understand that you could have been caught and executed? You took so many risks!”

“I hoped that I wouldn’t be discovered.”

“I have never imagined that you could be you so audacious and bold,” Guy retorted with a rich chuckle.

“Well, I am glad that now you know me better.”

“I cannot say that the revelation pleases me, Marian.”

“Why?” Marian said sharply, feeling angry and humiliated. “Would you want me to play a role of a caring wife who can do only embroidery and sewing and who is waiting for her husband at home, does everything to satisfy him, and… bears his children?”

“All these are wifely duties, but I wouldn’t want you to play any role, especially a role of a traitor to your husband.” He sighed heavily. “Don’t lie to me anymore and don’t plot behind my back.”

“I didn’t betray you, Guy! It is not a betrayal!”

“No, Marian, it is worse. You committed an act of treason, even if you did that to help the people as you are putting it. You betrayed the sheriff and Prince John and me!” Guy spoke harshly. “But, most importantly, you betrayed me and lied to me! You lied to all of us for so many years!”

“I didn’t lie to you. I simply kept my identity a secret. I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing. Even my father didn’t know about my activities for a long time,” Marian said in a chilly tone. “I had to help the people who starved to death because taxes were so high that they couldn’t pay them.

“I tried to catch you for so long,” Guy said in a calmer tone. In three long strides, he was near the bed. He sat there, glancing into emptiness.

“I was careful.”

“What a fool I was when the truth was right before my eyes. You laughed at me behind my back.”

“Guy,” she cooed. “I never laughed at you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t be angry with me. Try to understand me,” Marian said, her tone soothing.

He laughed with a throaty laugh. “How can I understand lies?”

“How dare you accuse me of lying?” Marian cried out in indignation. “You are not a saint! You are a liar! You lied to me many times too!”

He pretended confusion. “When?”

“You said that King Richard was coming to Nottingham, but it was a lie; it was only the sheriff’s plot to discover and murder the nobles loyal to King Richard.”

“I assured you that your father would be protected as my father-in-law.”

“Guy, it does not justify your lies to me.”

“I would have saved your father.”

“The sheriff wanted everyone loyal to Richard dead. My father was among them, and Vaisey would have killed him anyway, even if you asked him to pardon my father.”

“I am Vaisey’s master-at-arms. He would have done spared Sir Edward for me.”

Marian threw back her head and laughed. “Guy, you have too much faith in Vaisey. You might be his right-hand man, but he will always do whatever he wants or needs.”

“Nevertheless, you betrayed me,” a metallic answer followed.                                                                                     

“Guy, you coerced me into our first engagement. You burnt down my house. You placed my father and me under house arrest at the castle. You hurt me and my father a lot.”

“I don’t deny that. It was my fault,” Guy agreed.

She sighed as the one resigned. “At least you accept your faults. At least we agree on something.”

“Don’t think that I will easily forget about your betrayal, Marian.”

She didn’t know what to say. She was growing tired of talking to him and explaining why she had made her choices. Her disappointment in him was too great at the moment.

§§§

Marian felt her entire body trembling. Her face showed her fury. A wave of anger swept over her. Robin’s accusations that Guy had organized the regicide attempt in the Holy Land came to her mind. If he had really attempted regicide, he had no right to accuse her of lies and betrayal.

She turned her hard gaze at him. “Maybe you also lied to me about something more serious.”

Guy frowned. “What?”

“Maybe you went to the Holy Land and tried to kill the king,” she continued.

Marian sounded very sure, dangerously presumptuous. He stared at her, his lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “And if I tried to kill the king, then what?”

“Did you try to kill King Richard?” she repeated her question, her eyes at him.

Her words were met with stony silence. Guy gazed away, wondering how she would react to the truth. He kept urging himself to have the courage and tell her the truth, but he failed. He was a coward who wasn’t able to say aloud to the woman he loved about the gravest crime he had almost committed in Acre.

“Guy, did you hear my question?”

“I did.”

“Then speak,” she prompted, her heart thudding against her ribs.

Guy turned to look at her. “I thought my silence speaks volumes. It is true that I am responsible for one regicide on King Richard’s life.”

“You lied to me, and I believed you,” she simpered. She hoped that he would reject her accusation, but he didn’t. At least he finally admitted the truth. Robin was right, and she didn’t believe him.

“Sorry, if I disappointed you.”

“Why did you do that?”

Guy rubbed his cheek. “Vaisey suggested that I go to Acre and organize the raid on the Crusaders’ camp. As you know, I failed. The king is alive, still in Palestine.”

“It is Prince John’s plot, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse. “Prince John will take over England. It is just a matter of time.”

“And you were eager to help Prince John kill his own brother, kill England,” she finished wrathfully.

Guy laughed. “King Richard is pitiful. He is not England. He doesn’t care about England and his people. He prefers to fight the wars he cannot win, which drain the country's wealth.”

“Still, he is the king; it is his right to wage wars and tax the populace.”

“Does England need the king who makes the nation miserable?”

“It is not an excuse for committing high treason, Guy.”

He sneered. “The weak king cannot be killed for the sole reason that he is the king.”

“No.”

“Well, why then?”

“Richard is the King of England, and he represents England, even if he is out of England; he is also a human being,” Marian explained. “It is wrong to kill a man who didn’t wrong you, let alone the King of England; especially if you do it for Prince John who won’t be the better king.”

“I spent my whole life trying to regain what I lost in my early youth,” Guy said grimly. “Prince John and Vaisey will give me power and wealth. I will have everything I lost; I already have much.”

“Guy, are you sure that power will make you happier?”

“I have always thought that power and wealth are more important than anything else until I met you.” He turned to face her. “I began to believe that love is more important than power, but now I think that I was stupid to think so. You betrayed me and lied to me.”

She laughed. “I lied to you. You lied to me.” She laughed louder. “We are even-steven.”

He sighed. “If you want to know, to some extent I am glad that I didn’t kill Richard and that Hood stopped me in time.”

Marian came to the bed and knelt to him. She stared at him, her eyes pleading him to listen to her. “I couldn’t tell you the truth about the Nightwatchman when I didn’t see the other side to you – the softer side. Now I know that you are a good, decent man. You do wrong things for power, but you know that you are wrong.” She smiled softly. “You are not like Vaisey.” She practically spat the sheriff’s name, like a curse. “You don’t take pleasure in torturing and killing people. You are not a monster.”

Guy stared at Marian with infinite mystery in his sparkling eyes. “Marian, I was once a different man, and the future seemed only bright and promising.” He grumbled. “But one day, many years ago, my old life was ruined, and I said a half-hearted farewell to happy days. Life was… tough and cruel, and, like you, I had to grow up when I was very young, though for different reasons. I became a man much earlier than pampered sons of lords and knights. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have survived.”

Marian looked somewhat abashed when suddenly another bright idea occurred to her – Guy had finally admitted that there had been times in his life when he had been a different man. She smiled with the most exquisite smile. “You are a strong man, Guy,” she said with pride and conviction.

“I had to be strong to survive,” Guy responded, sadness creeping into his voice. “In the dark moments of my life, I had nobody to help me, and I had to do many bad things which I hated. I had to ally myself with Vaisey because the people who could have helped me were either unwilling or unable to.”

“Guy, I understand you, but the sheriff was not the best choice for you.”

“I didn’t have any other choice,” Guy retorted. “Vaisey promised me power. He pledged that he would help me re-take everything that had been unjustly taken from me so long ago; he didn’t lie to me and gave me something I once lost.”

“Guy, are you so naïve? Do you truly believe that Vaisey will give you power if you kill the king?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I don’t.” She laughed, not a comforting sound. “Who knows, you might become a scapegoat, accused of attempting or committing regicide.”

“Nonsense!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, Guy, why are you so blind? It is so simple, but you see nothing. The sheriff pushes you into the darkness, and you are weak-willed to oppose him. The sheriff is everything that is bad in you.”

“Maybe you are right,” he admitted reluctantly, defeated. “But I am loyal to the sheriff. I cannot betray the only man who helped me, kept his promises, and never betrayed me, although I don’t deny that I had to do many… doubtful and unpleasant things at his order.”

Marian gazed at him with such intensity that he recoiled from her. “Guy, how can you work for the sheriff? How can you betray England? You don’t care for King Richard, but you cannot be indifferent to the future of England! Perhaps your country means nothing for you, does it?” she asked passionately.

Her accusing tone whipped up Guy's anger. “Don’t accuse me of betraying England and the king! England did nothing good to me! My father was King Henry’s loyal knight, but the king didn’t care that the son of his loyal subject was dispossessed and thrown into the street! I am not going to care about England.” He sneered. “I am not the nation’s savior. Only fools, like Hood, can play heroes and make high-spirited speeches about England, kings, and free Englishmen.”

“I don’t know how to talk to you. You are so blind.”

“No, Marian. I am just practical and disillusioned.”

Suddenly, Guy remembered the question that bothered him the most. He rose to his feet and approached Marian. Leaning closer to her, he grasped her wrists. “Robin Hood,” he spat.

Marian whimpered in pain and tried to wretch out of his grip, but he was stronger. “What?”

Guy released her. His rage grew again; a thought of Robin, his old-world nemesis, made his blood boil. His eyes darkened and now looked like bright black stones. “Are you working with Hood?”

She had to say something as he clearly wanted to hear her answer. “I am not with Hood, but sometimes I helped him to feed the poor and escape from the sheriff’s traps.”

“I have already figured out that you have been consorting with the outlaws,” Guy said angrily, looking at her with a searching look. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You were betrothed, and Robin still has feelings for you,” he began.

His statement drew a gasp of fear from Marian as she understood the trap she had fallen into. “I am your wife! I was willing to marry you, not Robin!” she cried out defensively, her eyes wide in a false astonishment. She couldn’t reveal the truth about her relations with Robin, at least not now. “I chose you because I thought that you love me more than everything else.”

“I didn’t lie. I love you.”

“And I believe you,” Marian said calmly. “I chose you because I wanted you to become your own man, not the king’s man or an England’s man.”

“Like Hood, England’s hero and the king’s man,” he said with ill-disguised contempt.

“I want you to be free from Vaisey and from your past that traumatized you.”

As his anger abated, melancholy came in its place. “I cannot forget about my past because I always have a reminder at the present.”

“You must forget.”

“Impossible.”

“Why?”

“Robin of Locksley,” Guy gave a hiss.

Marian arched an eyebrow. “What?”

Guy burst out laughing and cocked his head. “ _Robin Hood destroyed my life many years ago_. I will never forgive him for what he did to me.” His laugh was heartbreaking and hateful. “In childhood, Locksley was an arrogant, spoiled brat, always boasting with his archery talent and annoying others with his wild, foolish tricks. Hood has always been a vain show-off. He cares only about glory and wants to be loved by everyone. He is a braggart and a swaggerer, always heroic and good; but he is hypocrite through and through. He is not worthy of all the love people have for him.”

“You are not right, Guy.”

“No, Marian, I am right in my assessment of Robin Hood.”

“You didn’t know Robin as a child. You misjudge him, Guy. I grew up with him and I know that he is a good man.”

“Oh, I have known him for many years.”

“No.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Yes, Marian. I know Hood very well. We are _old friends_ ,” Guy stated with an ironic smile. By the end of his short speech, his tone tart, stressing the mocking meaning of the last word.

Marian frowned. “ _Old friends_?”

“ _Old enemies_ ,” Guy corrected himself. “Hood might be England’s hero and the patron of the poor, but he is not what he seems. If you learn the truth about him, you will be bitterly disappointed.”

She looked bewildered. “Then tell me.”

“Not now.”

“Guy, please tell me.” She was persistent.

“Enough! I said enough!” His roar cut across her words as he strode forward, towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

Guy paused near the door and flashed an ambiguous smile. “I need a drink.”

“Alright.”

“Promise me that you will never be the Nightwatchman again. You must stop this madness, Marian.”

“I promise.”

“Burn your costume, or I will do it myself,” he threatened.

“I will do it,” she said, almost humbly.

“One more question.” Guy looked at Marian for a long, long time, his gaze growing more and more intensive. He didn’t want to dwell on the past anymore, but there was something that had troubled him since his the day of their marriage consummation. “Who was your lover before I took you to bed?”

Marian shuddered. “What are you talking about?”

If looks could kill, Marian would have been dead at Guy’s fierce, almost murderous expression and cruel gaze. “Pray don’t play a coy virgin with me,” he said between his teeth, white with anger. “I need only the truth.”

She pretended to be baffled. “What?”

“Who was your first lover?” Guy questioned, his eyes gleaming wickedly. “Was he Hood?”

Marian had to summon all her self-control to keep herself from screaming in horror. She considered her options – to tell him the truth or to lie again. Lying seemed to be the simplest question, but she couldn’t continue doing that forever. She could no longer postpone the explosion, but she could avoid giving him a direct answer, saying something that was not the entire truth but also not a lie.

“Does it really matter?”

Guy came to her and raised her chin, forcing her to glance into his eyes. “That's enough, Marian,” he said sternly. “So it was Hood,” he hissed.

“It doesn’t matter.” She felt her head bursting. The flames of the candles fluttered crazily in deep blackness. She tried to turn away from him, but he held her chin.

He put his hand to her cheek, roughly caressing it. “Hood and you had been lovers before he left you for war,” he voiced his suspicion.

Marian had never before felt so scared and so ashamed. She hated Robin and herself for what they had done in the woods. She blushed with shame up to the roots of her hair. “Yes, it was… Robin,” she confessed, then shut her eyes. Her eyes filled with tears, and she brushed them away with her palm.

“Yeah, it was easy to guess.”

“Guy, it was only once; it was a mistake. I… I… regret that we did that.” Yet, she couldn’t deny that her treacherous soul often arched for Robin’s touch and his innate tenderness, and she missed him terribly.

In a moment, she opened her eyes, filled with mortal terror, and she began to shake. Guy noticed that she had been very frightened of what he could do to her. He was very angry, but her terror cooled off his anger, making him strangely calm. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his hand to her face and brushed away her tears that seeped out of her eyes and dribbled down her temples; his touch was neither rough nor gentle. She blinked, her eyes growing dim as she felt faintness overcoming her.

“Good Lord,” Guy growled.

“What?” She turned white, a ghost of a ghost.

“And Hood hadn’t married you before he left for the Holy Land,” he snapped disdainfully.

She stared at him, digesting the meaning of his words. He thought that it had happened before Robin had left for the war. His suspicion was wrong, and it was even better. He knew her main secret and it was the most important thing. Timing was not important. She made up her mind: she wouldn’t refute Guy’s statement. Robin would have understood her because he wasn’t a cruel man and would have wanted her to be safe at any cost, even if she had to feed Guy without another harmless lie.

“Robin offered to marry me twice before his departure.”

“Then, why were you not married?”

“I rejected him,” she informed. “I was angry as he chose glory over me.”

“Hood is a fool. He is not a man,” Guy said scornfully. “He thinks only about the king. He likes playing a soldier and a hero to achieve glory; he doesn’t care about the people.”

“I wouldn’t have married Robin for the sole reason that he would have always placed me on the second place. His utter loyalty to the king and England is admirable, but it is too much for a family life,” Marian said sincerely, relieved that she had finally spoken the truth.

Guy laughed nastily. “At Prince John’s court and even in the Holy Land, I heard rumors that King Richard’s favorites warm their King’s bed. Maybe Hood is Richard’s lover.”

A blushing Marian spluttered, “No, no. I am sure that Robin and the king are not involved in sin.”

He smirked. “I also don’t think so, but if it were true, it would be funny.”

“It is not true,” she repeated.

“Why do you think so?”

“Robin has always enjoyed women’s attention. I know that he had some affairs with noblewomen at the court and with village girls.”

“I heard rumors that Hood had several love affairs in just several weeks before they left Queen Eleanor’s court for the Holy Land. He didn’t hide his affairs.”

A twinge of jealousy stabbed her heart. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“He isn’t worthy of you.”

“Guy, what happened between Robin and me is not his fault,” Marian said, looking into his eyes. “We both were at fault.”

"You are mistaken, Marian. A man is always responsible, not a lady.”

“Hood didn’t force me.”

“It is his fault,” Guy declared, trembling with anger, his eyes flashing. Then he recovered himself. “Let’s not quarrel during the whole night.”

She forced a tight smile. “I don’t want to quarrel. I want you to understand me.”

He ignored her words. “Go to bed. Don’t wait for me.” He walked to the door. He paused at the doorway, as if hesitating to leave, but then his face darkened and he stormed out of the room.

Marian came to the bed and seated herself on the edge. Hot tears filled her eyes and spilled over. She was full of many conflicting emotions – she was angry at him and herself, and she was also relieved that the truth was out. At least she wouldn’t have to lie to him again unless he began to suspect that Robin and she were lovers after his return from the Crusades. She feared that Guy would turn against her if he had known the truth about her relationship with Robin, and that thought cut her like a knife.

Suddenly, she again frightened, and fear pierced her heart. Despite the absence of brutality towards her tonight, Guy was a dangerous man, and she herself wrapped the chains that tied her to him. And, truth be told, she wanted to be with him because she felt something for him: every day, she was falling for him, but she didn’t know whether it was only a deep affection or a real love.

Hastily Marian wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She lay back on the bed and covered herself with a blanket. She shut her eyes and felt lonelier than at any other time before. Determined not to let weakness and self-pity gain mastery of her, she turned her face towards the wall and tried to stifle her sobs. Soon exhaustion caught up with her, and she fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Guy was spending time in the study room, drinking wine. Soon Thornton knocked at the door and told Guy that the sheriff’s messenger waited for him in the parlor. The sheriff sent one of his guards to Locksley as the man wanted to have an urgent audience with Guy and Allan so late.

Soon Guy and Allan already stood in Vaisey’s study room, looking at the fuming sheriff and listening to the sequence of the most violent curses they had ever heard in their lives. The window was ajar in spite of the harsh December night outside, and the air was cold. The cold wind penetrated the room through the wide-open window, fluttering Vaisey’s black robes around his small, ugly figure.

“Gisborne, you are an imbecile! You have no brain! Your head is empty!” Vaisey fumed, with a look full of anger. “Prince John is furious that we didn’t find the queen’s golden boy yet! Our plan to disgrace Robin Hood is not working, your plan, Gizzy! The prince was so angry that he demanded more taxes!”

“I am sure we can find more ways to collect taxes,” Guy replied in a casual tone.

Guy thought that the sheriff might smile for a moment, but then Vaisey’s expression hardened, a dangerous glint darkening his eyes. “Gisborne, you are worse than an imbecile! Prince John wants so much money that I will have to probably start selling the villagers in slavery!”

Gisborne lowered his head, looking at his boots. “I am sorry if I displeased you, my lord.”

“The prince needs to find the queen’s bastard son, this golden boy,” Vaisey spat. “Prince John wants to arrest this wretched man and use him against the queen.”

“The Queen Mother’s bastard gives us too many troubles. It is not easy to find him,” Guy complained.

“What would happen if we find this man?” Allan asked. There was a slight tremble in his voice.

The sheriff looked at Allan as if he were a fool. “Allan, don’t tell me that you are a peace-lover like your former master, the goodie-doer Robin Hood. You are with us, my boy,” he said in a menacing tone.

“I am honored to be with you, milord,” Allan said; he was stunned that his voice wasn’t shaking.

“We will capture the Queen Mother’s golden boy, and Prince John will decide how to kill him when he outlives his usefulness. We will find a way to make the bastard iron from golden,” Vaisey continued with a laugh. "Now attention, my boys! Sir Jasper sent a messenger to us. We are going to London very soon.”

“Why?” Guy inquired innocently.

Vaisey grimaced, dipping his head to one side. “Another stupid question, countless for today, Gisborne! Why may we go to London?” he said harshly. “Prince John is gathering the Black Knights. He wants to sign a new pact against King Richard. We have to be there, and we will have much to discuss.”

Guy blinked. “When will we go?”

“Tomorrow, early in the morning, we are leaving for London,” Vaisey replied, laughing. “Gisborne, be ready to part with your little leper wife.”

“We are always ready, milord,” Guy promised.

Vaisey saw that Guy and Allan were shivering in cold, but he enjoyed tormenting them. “Are you freezing, my friends? Freezing, I know, but I like some fresh air.” He sneered. “You would prefer to spend time in a warm bed, in the case of Gisborne with his leper wife! But I will never let you be warm and happy after you failed me so many times!”

“I will not catch my death of cold,” Guy assured his master.

“I am accustomed to cold,” Allan said cheerfully.

“Oh, Allan, I have no doubt that you slept on the streets and on the cold ground,” Vaisey retorted. “Where did you like sleeping more – on the streets or on the leaves, with Hood, in Sherwood?”

Allan hung his head, both ashamed and scared. “Milord, I am happy that you have given me everything I have never had.”

Vaisey clapped his hands. “Allan, it is very good! Very good! ” He laughed and rose to his feet, walking to the table where his cage with birds stood. “If you are not loyal to me and obedient like my lapdogs, you will be caged like these lovely birds. But your conditions will be much, much worse, I promise you,” he threatened.

“We are loyal to you, my lord Sheriff,” Guy retorted.

“We are loyal and obedient. You can count on us,” Allan added, lying through his teeth and hoping that the sheriff didn’t understand that.

The sheriff looked pensive. “On the way to London, we have to think what to tell Prince John about the Queen Mother’s bastard. We have to justify our failure to find the bastard.”

“I trust you abilities to judge what to do, my lord,” Guy said submissively.

“We will think of something. We will invent half a plan,” Allan supplied; he almost blushed at the thought that he used Robin’s trademark statement.

“Now get out of my sight,” Vaisey ordered, his hands caressing one of his birds.

Guy and Allan nodded wordlessly, both of them secretly pleased to leave the sheriff’s chamber, in cold and with his birds that seemed to be the only creatures Vaisey felt an attachment to, save his sister, the unfortunate Lady Davina poisoned by her own snakes. Allan gave Guy a worried look, but Guy shot him a fierce glare and motioned for him to leave the room.

§§§

Sheriff Vaisey, Guy of Gisborne, and Allan-a-dale departed from Nottingham the next morning. Due to the cold and bitter weather, it took them more than a week to get to London. They arrived in London as afternoon settled towards dusk. The horses moved through the icy mud on the roads the roads were frozen and hard as iron, and twice they had to change a route in order not to be stuck on impassable paths.

They rode through the center of London, towards the White Tower. Everyone was relieved as they saw the outlines of the Tower – the corners of the rectangular building with turrets at each corner and a long spiral staircase before the entrance. The White Tower dominated London and was the favorite seat of Prince John’s court. It was a fortress and a palace, as well as a state prison, a garrison, an arsenal, an armory, a mint, a wardrobe, and a treasure house; the crown jewels were always kept here; there was even a small menagerie.

When they stopped near the entrance, several grooms were already waiting to greet them. Vaisey dismounted and almost fell to the ground as his legs were stiff and numb from cold. The sheriff spewed a sequence of curses, his rancorous voice coursing through the cold air and echoing everywhere around them. Vaisey clung to the bridle as if it could support him, but he couldn’t keep his balance and fell to the ground.

“Gisborne! Come to me! Help me! Help me stand up!” Vaisey shouted as he tried to rise to his feet on his own but failed. It was a funny sight as the evil man was crawling on the ground. “Gisborne, Allan, damn you to hell, oafs! Help me! Now! Right now!”

“We are coming, my lord,” Guy of Gisborne said flatly.

Guy and Allan smiled at one another, and then they hurried to the sheriff who continued cursing and insulting them. With great difficulty, they managed to pull Vaisey to his legs.

“My tooth! Where is my tooth?” Vaisey looked absent-minded as he bit his lips and moved his tongue between his teeth; then his cheeks burned with anger. “Gisborne, you have to find my tooth! I need my tooth! I cannot go to Prince John without my tooth! Hurry up, Gisborne. Find it!”

“Of course, my lord,” Guy replied, struggling with himself to keep his voice devoid of anger. He again was humiliated that he was given such rudimentary tasks to do. The sheriff treated him disgustingly, and it was becoming more and more difficult to tolerate that. “We will find your tooth.”

While Allan wrapped his arm around the sheriff’s shoulders and held him so, that the older man didn’t fall again, Guy crouched and started searching for Vaisey’s jeweled tooth. In several minutes, Guy found the tooth; Vaisey didn’t thank him and simply grabbed the tooth, putting it in his mouth.     

The servant approached Vaisey and wrapped the sheriff into a thick blanket. Guy and Allan led the sheriff inside the Tower; Vaisey walked slowly, his legs still stiff from the cold. They ascended the external staircase and then entered the great hall, where they were greeted by servants who asked about their luggage and offered to accompany them to their apartments.

Glancing over his shoulder, Guy noticed the Earl of Spenser, the Earl of Buckingham, the Earl of Durham, Sir Robert de Vieuxpont, and Sir Jasper of Ashton, who stood in the corner involved in a lively and heated chat. He couldn't tell what they discussed, but the words were accompanied by several choppy, vigorous hand gestures. Then they turned their gazes at Vaisey and his companions, nodding at them. Guy stiffened at the sight of Buckingham’s hard, hateful expression that was quickly masked by a fake smile; at that moment, Guy was sure that the other man hated him with an intense, burning hatred, wondering why his personality stirred such negative feelings in the earl.

One of the servants led Guy into his chamber. As they walked through corridors, Guy looked around, his eyes taking in the details of the palace. It was not the first time when he was at Prince John’s court. Yet, every time he was amazed by the interiors of the White Tower. Everything inside was white in accordance with the contemporary fashion of painting prestigious buildings white. The regular coats of whitewash applied to the thick walls of the White Tower were impressive. Guy would have loved the idea of spending some time in this place if he hadn’t been accompanied by the sheriff.

The bedchamber assigned to Guy was located in the left-hand wing of the tower, on the second floor, not far from the huge royal apartments occupied by Prince John in the absence of his elder brother King Richard. The servant opened the door, motioning Guy to follow him inside the room. It was warm there as a fire was blazing in the heart. The servant hurried to light candles in three candlesticks and then brought some refreshments for the guest.

Guy eyed the chamber. The room was decorated modestly, in the style similar to the rooms where he had stayed during his previous visits to court. The walls were white, and only one wall was covered with tapestries. In the center, there was a double wide oak bed covered with heavy magenta rose tapestry. The bedside tables were wooden, and there were two high-back chairs placed on a large woolen carpet. In the corner, there was a heavy walnut table where the servant placed two empty jeweled goblets and a silver decanter filled with red spiced wine.

Guy thanked the servant and gave him his permission to leave. He removed his black leather cloak and threw it on the bed. He seated himself in a chair that stood close to the hearth, enjoying the pleasant warmth. He knew that he wouldn’t have much time in solitude because Vaisey would surely come in the evening to discuss their meeting with Prince John. At least he would finally alone, without his master, for a short time, he thought.

Staring into the flames, Guy was thinking of Marian: even despite their quarrel, she was always on his mind. The unveiling of Marian’s secrets shocked him to the core. On the way to London, he had been thinking of Robin Hood and Marian, analyzing facts and making conclusions, one of them being his newly discovered assurance that Robin had learned about the true identity of the Nightwatchman very soon after his return to Nottingham. But Marian’s help to Robin wasn’t the worst thing he had learned.

Marian’s confession that Robin Hood had once been her lover drove Guy to the verge of his sanity, and his blood was boiling with rage, his heart craving for vengeance. Though he had said to her that Hood and she had been lovers before the fool’s departure to the Holy Land and she hadn’t denied that, he suspected that Marian could have again lied to him. Had Marian and Robin been lovers in the days of his life in the woods? Robin’s madness in the two bloody battles in Sherwood – one near the cave and another one on the Great North Road – proved that he had still carried a torch for Marian even after their long separation, and if Marian had felt the same, they could have been lovers after his return.

Guy blamed Robin Hood for corrupting and tarnishing Marian. A woman might have flirted with a man tempting him, but a man was ultimately responsible for the beginning of intercourse. Guy would never believe that Hood had been an innocent party – he seduced Marian with his false promises, his cheeky smiles, and his easy charms. He had never hated Robin more than he hated him after the revelation. Guy couldn’t deny that Robin was a handsome man whose charm enthralled a legion of women’s hearts. Marian was not all women – she was Marian and Guy’s wife.

Guy had heard rumors that the Earl of Huntingdon and the Earl of Leicester had been a dangerous pair of rogues in the days spent at the court of love in Aquitaine. Even after the departure of King Richard’s retinue to the Holy Land, the courtiers in London had gossiped that Huntingdon and Leicester had satisfied their carnal appetites with many lovely and accommodating ladies at Queen Eleanor’s court before leaving for the Crusade. When Guy had attended several feasts at Prince John’s court, he had overheard the conversation of several ladies, Queen Eleanor’s ladies-in-waiting, who had discussed Robin of Locksley, and one of them had been Robin’s former lover. He had also heard how young girls from Locksley had discussed the handsome hero whose charm had swept them off their feet.

Women were easily overpowered by Robin of Locksley’s charms, and even more by the charms of the heroic Robin Hood. Guy was an extremely attractive man, but he obviously lacked an easy-going, light, and captivating charm that Robin possessed since early childhood. Nature produced Guy’s face as very handsome and impressive, with dark and pointed features, but lacking in a light and head-spinning charm, which attracted more attention and was probably more memorable than his dark features.

Now Guy understood why Marian had been so reluctant to marry other man and even be courted by them. She had waited for Robin’s return, but then, in more than five years, she had finally seen him again, he had been outlawed and they had again lost a chance for a marriage. She must have been growing weary of waiting for Robin, Guy speculated, thinking that she had probably let him seize his chance and marry her because she had believed that she would never have a normal life with Robin.

With repulsion, Guy thought that Hood had finally demonstrated his true colors – he was an arrogant, selfish and dishonest liar, a knave, and a murderer, and a thief, a common criminal. Hood wasn’t as honest and honorable as he pretended because an honorable man wouldn’t have taken Marian to his bed before he married her – Guy didn’t do that when they were engaged. Hood wasn’t a chivalrous knight in shining armor adored and loved by so many foolish women.

Guy laughed aloud. If someone had told him ten years ago that he and Robin would be in love with the same woman, he wouldn’t have believed in that. Robin had always been an annoying obstacle to Guy’s happiness, but never had he imagined that his enemy would be his rival in love too. Guy often asked himself why his life was always connected with Robin’s, as though they had once been tied to each other by intangible bonds that were stronger than their mutual hatred, as though God had wanted them to always stumble into each other when they walked away. Was it a dark irony of fate?

Guy gritted his teeth. He felt betrayed by Marian. He felt light and heavy, full and empty at the same time. He was not content with the idea of persecuting Marian until his dying day, for she wasn’t that the vilest creature in his life and she was his wife. She seemed to be repentant of having an affair with Hood, and her repentance, provided that it wasn’t an act of pretense, somehow eased her guilt.

Guy couldn’t stay motionless any longer and jumped to his feet. He began pacing across the room to expend the energy of his temper. His thoughts again returned to Robin Hood, the very man who always spoiled his life, only this time his childhood nemesis had crept into his marriage to Marian, like a damned thief, threatening to destroy their relations and the golden future they might have had. He regretted that he hadn’t killed Robin in the Holy Land or in Nottingham. Hood deserved to die.

“Bla-di-bla-di-bla! Gisborne, stop pacing the room! You are unnerving me,” Vaisey said irritably. He stood leaning back to the door, staring at Guy.

Guy stared at Vaisey, feeling as though he had been paralyzed with fear in the sheriff’s presence. “My lord, I am sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I knocked twice, Gisborne,” Vaisey complained. “You are becoming reckless and inattentive.”

Guy lowered his head, looking at the carpet. “I beg my pardon, my lord Sheriff. I promise that I will be more attentive next time.”

A grinning Vaisey sneered. "Why are you so nervous, my boy? Do you miss your little leper wife, Gizzy? She was quiet before our departure to London. She kept her tongue back when she was the Council of Nobles.”

“Marian was busy at Locksley,” Guy replied shortly.

The sheriff chuckled. “Does your marriage satisfy… the needs of your little leper so well?”

Intense disgust drew Guy away from Vaisey, and he took a step back. “We are happy in our marriage, my lord,” he said in a voice that didn’t betray his true feelings. Then he deliberately jumped to another subject. “Will we have a meeting with Prince John tomorrow?”

“Yes, we will have an audience in the morning. Prince John assembled the Black Knights here. We have much to discuss.”

“Hopefully, the meeting will be productive.”

“The prince also has some information about Robin Hood.”

Guy raised a brow. “About Hood? What can he know?” He shook his head in disbelief. “He disappeared: he is most likely dead and buried somewhere by his gang.”

“We will learn tomorrow, but I doubt that Hood is dead,” the sheriff said, his face evolving into a cameo of disappointment. “It is bad that we lost Hood. Prince John must be angry.”

Guy shrugged his shoulders. “What can we do?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Vaisey screamed so loud that his cries reverberated in Guy's ears. “We also failed to capture the Nightwatchman, but this failure is not as important as Hood’s disappearance and our failure to find the queen’s bastard.”

“Maybe we will never find him, milord. We know almost nothing about him.”

The sheriff struck the table with his fist. “Gisborne, your leper distracted you from your tasks in a warm bed that is even not yours, but Hood’s!” he shouted, having a deep longing to insult Guy again. “I am slowly running out of patience! Soon I will be unable to forgive you for your failures!”

Guy clenched his fists. “I am the owner of the Locksley Manor! Hood’s lands are mine!”

Vaisey shot a malignant grin. “But I can do something to change that, my boy.”

“My lord, you will not do that!” Guy shouted, feeling his chest heaving with anger.

“No need to shout, Gizzy. I don’t like it.”

“You cannot do that to me! You cannot–”

The sheriff interrupted Guy, giving him a smile. “I will never hurt you as long as you are loyal to me.” He laughed. “But at times I need to remind you why you have Locksley in your possession, Gisborne.”

Guy knew the sheriff’s strategy: Vaisey often reminded him that a lapdog was nothing without its master. “I am very grateful to you.”

“Good, good, good,” Vaisey retorted. He was quiet for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. “I wonder who the Nightwatchman is, he said at last.

Guy glanced away; he took a deep breath as he prepared to lie. “Someone from Hood’s gang.”

“But he is active even when Hood is away.”

“I don’t know, my lord.”

“Yes, yes, Gisborne, idiots don’t know many things.” Vaisey laughed. “Now get some sleep. Otherwise, you will have dark circles under your beautiful blue eyes that are… like… deep lakes where you swim, dive, and sink.” He laughed. “Dress well and look good, Gizzy. Otherwise, the prince will throw you away from the court for an unacceptable appearance.”

“Of course, milord. I will make myself presentable,” Guy responded, swallowing another one out of the innumerate humiliations he had received during the long years of his service to the sheriff.

After Vaisey was gone, Guy couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. He found himself burning with thoughts about Marian’s relationship with Robin Hood. Immediately after the shocking revelation, Guy had been seized with a furious rage that he could have plunged a sword into Marian’s stomach, strangled her with his bare hands, or beaten her to death. But Guy hadn’t done that because he loved her. Even after he had learned the truth, he couldn’t harm her or kill her; it was easier to kill Hood instead of Marian.

The only consolation was that Marian had finally confessed her love affair with Robin Hood, even if had done that after she had been asked straightforwardly what she’d had with the outlaw. At least she hadn’t lied and hadn’t tried to manipulate him during their last conversation. Obviously, she hadn’t betrayed Guy after their marriage because Hood had disappeared after the siege of Nottingham.

Technically, Marian wasn’t an adulteress, but she wasn’t as pure as he had thought of her earlier. She wasn’t a whore and would never be, despite her history with Hood; she was a decent woman tarnished by a dishonorable man. She herself told him that she had regretted having intimacy with Robin Hood. She had chosen him over Hood and had married him. Were those arguments enough to forgive Marian and give her a second chance in their marriage? Guy didn’t have an answer.

Truth be told, Guy didn’t care particularly whether a woman was a maid or not. He had many love affairs, especially in his early youth he had spent in Normandy and in other continental lands of the Angevin Empire. Guy hadn’t enjoyed having relations with several maidens whom he had taken to his bed. It would have been better if Marian had been a true maid when he had married her, but he could live with the truth if he hadn’t known the name of her first lover – Robin Hood, his sworn enemy and the man who had stolen everything from him, including Marian’s innocence. Marian had assured him that she had been with Hood only once, but it didn’t make it easier to accept her betrayal.

He wished that he had met her many years ago, before she had grown up and had felt physical desire for a man, but that was not their case, again because of Hood. He would have been so happy to meet Marian when she had had a pure heart and had been untouched by any man, when she had been very young and hadn’t been hardened by the cruelty of the world. But their life paths hadn’t intersected until his return to Nottingham, and she had fallen for Hood before meeting Guy. Guy had stepped on evil paths to survive and she had become a woman, though, unfortunately, not with him.

Guy felt that he couldn’t let Marian go. She let Guy feel alive, softened his heart and calmed the cruel demons that had been tearing him apart throughout so many years. She gave him hope for a better life and a good future. His love for her was a path to the light from the darkness, and he wasn’t strong enough to miss his chance even despite her liaison with his enemy. A huge distance – emotional and physical – had existed between them, but maybe some basic things in life were still strong enough to put forth new leaves in their relationship, Guy thought. Was it a good idea to have a try with Marian and rediscover his lost happiness? He didn’t know, but he hoped that there was still a chance for them.

Guy shook his head, feeling a sudden burst of pain shooting through his temples. He was lost and confused. He was at crossroads. He couldn’t see what Marian thought and planned behind his back. He didn’t trust her. And yet, he needed Marian as she could give him redemption he secretly craved to have. Even if Marian was not what he had thought of her, Guy still needed her for himself.

Yet, Guy felt that there was something that he didn’t know – Marian either hadn’t told him everything or had again lied to him. He had to force himself to accept the truth which she had told him about her relations with Robin, but he dreaded that one day he would have to learn something else about the two childhood sweethearts separated by war and, perhaps, providence. He created an image of an ideal, pure-hearted lady in his mind, an image that had been broken by the harsh truth. But he loved her, didn’t he? Or was his love for her an illusion like her purity had been?

Guy shut his eyes, wishing the disturbing thoughts to go away completely. A shudder ran through him as his mind created the picture of Robin and Marian kissing in the depths of the woods. Guy opened his eyes, feeling relief wash over him that he was in the Tower, not in Sherwood, and the visions of the two lovers were productions of his wild imagination. He decided to focus on the here and now – on the meeting with Prince John and the Black Knights scheduled for tomorrow, though these thoughts brought nothing but anxiety and alarm to him.

Tears and agonies had become a part of his life so long ago. His vague hopes for happiness with Marian had turned into bitter disappointment, leading to the revolting misery in his personal life – that was all that lay before him. If only fate would have sent him at least some happiness and tranquility! Guy didn’t want to believe that he was doomed to live in an unhappy, loveless marriage and serving the man whom he loathed wholeheartedly. He only wanted to be loved and respected by his people and his wife, but the question was whether he would ever have that.

Meanwhile, Sheriff Vaisey and the Earl of Buckingham were in the Earl’s bedchamber. Buckingham paced the room back and forth, his appearance radiating anger, lamenting that he couldn’t even see Gisborne’s face, and he demanded an action from Vaisey. Shaking his head in denial and smiling at the distraught man, Vaisey was lounging in a chair near the hearth, listening attentively, his arms folded and his lips compressed; he was already bored, hoping that Buckingham would stop pacing.

“I will ask Prince John to appeal to the Archbishop of Canterbury. I won’t let Gisborne take away what rightfully belongs to me,” the Earl of Buckingham said as he walked in between the door and the bed that stood in the opposite part of the chamber. “Lord Vaisey, I thought that you would be true to your word but you of all people deceived me!” He stopped in the middle, looking at the older man with angry eyes. “We have known each other for so long, for longer than Gisborne serves you. We have worked together since the revolt of Queen Eleanor and her sons against King Henry. I have always trusted you immeasurably, but everything has changed.”

Vaisey sighed. “Lord Buckingham, a stupid thing like this, the most trivial thing, shouldn’t ruin our friendship. What matters is that we have a new plan to kill the king – everything else is not important.”

It was rarely when a man like Buckingham looked hurt, but it was the case at that moment. “You call it a trivial thing, don’t you?” he asked with obvious displeasure. “Trifles, like women, are what matter! But such trifles always ruin everything like they ruined our friendship!”

“Buckingham, you are behaving like such a child deprived of a favorite toy. How can you think of lepers when we have much more important things to care about?”

“The king,” the other man said.

Vaisey smiled. “Yes. That’s why you have to forget about this trifle.”

“It is not easy,” the earl whispered with a painful effort.

“Trifles and lepers ruin your life if you become dependent on them.”

“Lepers? At times, I think that you simply hate all women, Lord Vaisey,” Buckingham observed with a smile. “A man needs a woman's care and attention. That’s why I need this leper!”

“ _Stop whining, Buckingham. You don’t need her_ ,” the sheriff declared decisively.

“I cannot concentrate now.”

Vaisey rose to his feet. “We will talk tomorrow, my friend.”

Buckingham managed a smile. “I am not going to spend this night alone.”

“Ah, basic needs!” The sheriff shrugged. “I am a happy man – I am free from these needs!”

The earl sniggered. “I haven’t forgotten about your tastes, my lord. At times I envy you.”

“You may try this, but surely not with me – I prefer to separate business and friendship from this. I will be resistant to your charms,” Vaisey said with an innocent face. “But if you ever try, you will like this.”

Buckingham nodded. “I prefer to separate these things too.” He shot a grin. “Besides, I tried and liked this. I love what lepers – both male and female – can give me.”

The sheriff licked his lips, his eyes on fire. “What a confession, my dear Lord Buckingham!”

The younger man winked. “My dear Lord Vaisey, we have much in common.”

“Oh, yes, we do,” Vaisey agreed. “Friends?”

“Yes, my lord,” Buckingham replied.

Vaisey and Buckingham parted their ways, Vaisey thinking that the man wouldn’t do anything rash and the earl seething with anger and still pondering over the course of action. Their secret gave the sheriff a powerful weapon against his henchman, and perhaps one day he would use it if Guy betrayed his trust and disappointed him too much. But no action needed for now, just for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm of Locksley visited Thornton who knows the old secret of the Gisborne family and the Huntingdon family. Malcolm made some hints about Robin’s blood, which you may find interesting. You will learn more about the dark mysteries of the past soon.
> 
> Guy/Marian shippers should be happy because in this chapter Marian and Guy finally have a candid conversation and she confesses that she is the Nightwatchman. As Guy corners her, she also reveals to him the truth about some details of her relationship with Robin, but not everything.
> 
> I hope you are not displeased that Guy slaps Marian, for it indeed happened on the show when he discovered the true identity of the Nightwatchman. Guy is not going to kill her, but he is going to be angry with her; I am sure that you understand that their relations cannot be only goo and sweet immediately after such shocking revelations. But at least now Marian and Guy are on the same page, and there are fewer secrets between them.


	9. Plotting Regicide

**Chapter 9**

**Plotting Regicide**

The night was restless for Guy as he failed to put his thoughts of Marian out of his mind, his brain struggling to figure out how he should handle his marital situation. The morning couldn't come soon enough for him. He lay in his bed, looking at the window and measuring the span of time by the changing colors of the sky. Some of that span he slept fitfully, but most of the night he spent in a relentless awareness of pain and worry. Guy was relieved when a servant knocked at his door and notified that the grand audience with Prince John would take place in an hour.

Vaisey, Guy, and Allan went to Prince John’s royal apartments that were divided into the great hall, several chambers, and one chapel, together forming the royal household. They had to go to the second floor of the White Tower. They passed through a galleried great hall and a Norman chapel dedicated to St. John the Evangelist. Then they were lost in the labyrinth of corridors before they finally came to the heavy oak doors of the prince’s apartments.

They entered the great hall was huge, with whitewashed walls, two of which were covered with delicate tapestries and two bare. The chamber was furnished with a long, delicately carved, oak table and many gorgeous golden couches in the corners of the hall. A long row of high-back wooden chairs, each with crimson upholstery, stood near the table.

There were several high shelves, each full of books in various languages, which hung on the two bare walls. Prince John had a fierce passion for reading, which was rather unusual for the period, and he even had a travelling library of books that moved with him as court moved to another palace. Several oil lamps and silver candlesticks stood on the tables in the corners of the hall, which illuminated the room once the darkness descended upon the city.

Having once visited Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine's court in Poitou, Guy knew that Prince John's court, like King Henry II's court, was not a good place for those fond of exquisite luxury, for the English didn't have a taste for fine things. A court was a hive of a frenetic activity that revolved around the ever-moving person of the king and, in the absence of the king, Prince John. Guy was happy at court was in London in the winter as in the warm seasons it was nomadic, staying at a succession of castles, palaces, manors, and hunting lodges, rarely remaining in the same place for more than a few weeks.

Prince John, Count of Mortain, known as the Lackland, sat on a massive carved throne covered with crimson velvet, beneath a crimson velvet canopy of state. Two painted stone leopards crouched at either side of the throne, and, behind their heads, a magnificent banner embroidered with the royal Angevin lions sparkled with light. At John’s special request, his throne was raised up three steps, which symbolized the superiority of a monarch over his subjects. Obsessed with the idea to become King of England, John strove to show his magnificence at every available opportunity.

Prince John wore a crimson brocade doublet with a high collar jeweled on its edges, a white taffeta shirt, and crimson brocade trousers. The color of his clothes also stressed his desire for kingship. A golden diamond chain gleamed around his neck; his fingers were stud with rings. A connoisseur of jewels, John always wore many pieces of jewelry.

John could probably be called a handsome man, but he wasn’t particularly attractive, unlike his brother Richard. His face was dominated by a narrow mouth and a pair of grey-blue eyes lazily looking around with boredom. He had a slender body, not muscular and powerfully built. His head was full of dark red hair, a shade darker than Richard’s. He was not as tall as his brothers, and he envied Richard and his other brothers, now already deceased, since adulthood.

Vaisey smiled at the prince and bowed; Guy and Allan also bowed. Allan gazed at Prince John with a sort of appalled wonder; he had never seen any Prince before and was stunned to the core. From the corner of his eye, Guy watched Allan’s bewildered face and smirked.

Allan leaned his head to Guy. “Prince John likes opulence and jewelry,” he whispered.

Guy smothered a grin. “More than anybody else.”

“He doesn’t look like an Englishman,” Allan whispered into Guy’s ear.

Guy gave a nod. “The prince looks more like an inhabitant of Poitou.”

“Is King Richard different?” Allan asked.

“King Richard also looks as if from Poitou, but, unlike Prince John, he is cold, stern and high-minded,” he murmured.

“Yeah, it seems they are different!”

“Allan, shut your mouth.”

Prince John waved his head for silence. “Welcome, my loyal subjects and friends,” he began, his eyes surveying his guests. “I am pleased to see you at my court today.”

The Black Knights who attended the event formally greeted the prince, deeply bowing to him, some even kneeling to him and kissing his hand. The Earl of Spenser and the Earl of Buckingham were delayed by John for a brief private chat. The Earl of Durham and the Baron of Rotherham had an especially warm welcome from the prince who embraced them and spoke words of praise before the other Black Knights. Then everyone settled in chairs at the table.

Guy noticed some new faces among the Black Knights, wondering who they were. They didn’t wear their usual black attire today and were dressed in colorful court attire.

Sheriff Vaisey, the head of the Black Knights Club, was greeted by Prince John with caution instead of special warmth. The prince stood up from his throne to exchange greetings with the sheriff, but he didn’t embrace Vaisey as he did before. Vaisey’s smile was rather tense as he buttered up the prince with flattery; the sheriff was nervous behind his outward calmness. Guy was polite and reserved; Allan trailed behind him, lost for words and wondering how to behave and what to do.

Prince John raised his hand, a sign for silence to everyone. “My lords, today we gathered here to discuss my beloved brother Richard, who is still crusading in the Holy Land.” He smirked. “When my brother will leave the land of Christ and come home? Will he be able to win the war with the famous Saladin and justify his name – the Lionheart? What do you think?”

Vaisey smiled smugly. “My liege, your brother is not here, and nobody of us, your loyal servants, anticipates his return.” He sneered. “Who knows what may happen? He may be wounded by a Saracen arrow. His ship may sink. But it will be different: we will help you become King of England.” He paused, for an effect, his smile growing wider. “By God’s holy eyes, I see here, in this chamber, the only man who is destined to be King of England.” He bowed to the prince. “This man is John Plantagenet – King John I of England.”

John smiled gloriously. “Lord Vaisey, you are definitely one of my most loyal subjects.”

“Long live King John!” Vaisey cried out, his mouth curving into an ugly smile.

The Black Knights applauded. “Long live King John! Long live our king!”

Prince John theatrically outstretched his arms. “My beloved subjects, my brother Richard is unworthy of the throne! He abandoned our kingdom and our people. He doesn’t love England and our people, and he cares only about foreign wars. If he loved England, he wouldn’t have deserted the country to be a soldier of the Cross? My brother doesn’t deserve to be the King of England, Duke of Normandy, and have all the other titles he carries so proudly.” He raised his chin, smiling. “We all pray God will send an arrow to pierce the lion’s heart. But we can help him roar in pain, too.”

John hated Richard and wished him dead. Since Richard had left for the Crusade, he dreamed of an arrow striking Richard through the heart. In his dreams, he often saw the visions of the wounded Richard lying on the desert sand and begging God for mercy, shuddering in death convulsions, blood flowing out of his large and muscular body. Actually, John had always hated all his elder brothers because they had been ahead of him in the line of succession to the throne.

“Today we are here to discuss our glorious future. The Operation Shah Mat is moving to the next phase,” Vaisey proclaimed, his arms outstretched, with his palms up. “We must mobilize our strengths and bring down pitiful Richard the Lionheart. We must be ready to help Richard end the holy war and, of course, take his life.” He rubbed his eyes, imitating grief. “Oh, oh, the king is dead. How sad!”

Everyone laughed merrily, except for Guy and Allan. Guy was solemn and serious, while Allan tried not to show his disgust and shock.

“Brilliant, Vaisey! Brilliant!” Prince John applauded.

“The king is dead,” Vaisey proclaimed with sarcastic remorse. “Long live the king!”

“Long live the king!” everyone echoed. Guy did that automatically, Allan – out of necessity.

“The operation Shat Mat will bring us to the new era of prosperity and happiness. I am ready to give as much money as I can to my king,” the Baron of Rotherham declared.

Prince John smiled. “Good, Rotherham. I value such loyalty.”

The Earl of Buckingham bowed. "I will also do everything for my king. I will give everything I have – all my estates and money – to you, my king.”

“You surely love me, Lord Buckingham,” the prince said with a large smile.

“I do love you, milord!” Buckingham exclaimed theatrically.

Prince John pursed his lips. “Buckingham, I know that you are very loyal.”

“We all think that it is time to give England a new king,” Sir Jasper promulgated.

“It is time for action, my lords,” the Earl of Spenser announced in a high voice.

Buckingham smiled. “The new era is at the doorstep. We are so close.”

The Earl of Durham chuckled. “England needs a new king who loves his country and who speaks unaccented English.” His voice was so deep that it seemed to rise from his boots.

Prince John sneered. “Oh, my dear Lord Durham! This is a great pleasure to hear your witty remark about my brother’s inability to speak English well.”

“King Richard must die in the Holy Land,” Rotherham said directly.

“Better in the Holy Land than on the way to England or in England,” the Earl of Spenser agreed.

“Whether God sends an arrow or one of our people to finish off Richard Plantagenet, Richard shall lose the kingdom and the people’s love,” Gerard de Camville stated. He became an adherent of Prince John in the absence of King Richard.

John smiled. “I am pleased to hear that my nobles understand the needs of the country and the nation. Unfortunately, my mother, Queen Eleanor, doesn’t understand that Richard is a weak king who is unable to rule the Angevin Empire.” He pursed his lips. “Well, Richard has always been my mother’s favorite child. Blinded by her mad love for Richard, my mother fails to see a simple truth.” His face revealed a fake sadness. “It saddens me that mother is so blind and makes such foolish mistakes.”

Vaisey looked steadily at the prince. “Sire, it doesn’t matter what the Queen Mother thinks. Your esteemed father, King Henry, wanted you to inherit the throne.”

“You must be our king, not Richard,” Sir Jasper added.

John’s visage brightened, and he smiled. “I heartily thank you, my loyal subjects.” Then he sighed. “I have just received a message from my mother that she refuses to give me a right to use a half of her troops stationed in Aquitaine to defend England from the Scots in the north.” His thin upper lip curled in fastidious aversion. “I am her son, am I not? Why doesn’t she give me an army if I need it?”

“We are working on the matter. We will find a solution,” the sheriff assured the prince.

John flashed a smile. “I remind you that I need a quick result. I count on you, Lord Vaisey, and your men, who must be loyal to us like dogs. We will discuss everything in private, later.”

Allan looked down, on the floor. He didn’t like Prince John’s speeches. He knew that Vaisey and the Black Knights had tried to kill King Richard and had many schemes to overthrow Richard. But one thing was to know and the other to see and hear. He was also disgusted with the mission to find and murder Queen Eleanor’s illegitimate son. If Allan had been honored to be a part of the sheriff’s inner circle, now he was appalled. His only way out was Robin, but the gang had disappeared.

At the moment, Allan decided that he would never help Vaisey murder anyone else. Allan even thought of going to Acre to inform the king about Prince John’s plots. Thinking that Lardner had been killed by the sheriff, he believed that King Richard had known nothing about his brother’s treason and the Black Knights. Instead, he would have to play a game and then somehow contact Robin and warn the king.

Guy cringed as Prince John referred to him and Allan as faithful dogs. Vaisey often told him that he had to be as faithful and obedient as a dog; the prince’s words humiliated and infuriated him. His face expressed nothing as he yielded his irritation to an open grin.

John waved for silence, and everyone veered their gazes to the prince. Then a middle-aged, grizzled man appeared in the great hall. The guest came to John’s throne and made a deep bow.

The prince smiled. “This is Lord Walter Sheridan, one of the boldest and celebrated holy warriors. He is Richard’s former servant. Lord Sheridan was betrayed by Richard and sent back to England after years of loyal service. Now he is among us and wishes to bring England into a new era with a new king.”

Lord Sheridan swept his eyes over the room. “It is true. I was betrayed by Richard Plantagenet. His attitude towards me proves that the so-called king doesn’t value an unconditional loyalty of his subjects.”

The Black Knights were shocked to see Lord Sheridan among them. Lord Sheridan was one of Richard’s most loyal supporters and one of the best military commanders. It was a shock to know that Sheridan had been sent back to England, even though he could be considered old to be a good soldier.

John supplied, “Lord Sheridan has interesting news for us!”

Sheridan bowed to the prince and reported, “On my way from Acre to England, I spent several days in Limassol and swayed Monsieur Guy de Lusignan to our side; he agreed to be our ally against King Richard. De Lusignan will provide us with valuable information about the war and some of Richard’s plans.”

John smirked. “Sheridan, you are a valuable asset.” His eyes darted to Vaisey. “There is something else. In Limassol, Sheridan saw a man whom you, Vaisey, swore to kill a long time ago. You lost a bird from the cage.” John’s eyes shot daggers at the sheriff.

Vaisey stiffened, his eyes attached to Sheridan; Guy and Allan stiffened. They thought of Robin Hood. Allan’s heart started beating faster in delight.

“In Limassol, I met Robin of Locksley, known as Robin Hood. He was heading to Acre with his friends and was received by Monsieur Guy de Lusignan as a guest of honor. Robin of Locksley was again appointed the captain of the king’s private guard,” Sheridan informed.

Prince John grinned. “Vaisey, you failed to capture Robin Hood. Now he is again with my brother.”

A smile was gone from the sheriff’s face, and he slightly paled. “My liege, I humbly beg you for forgiveness and promise to rectify the situation.” He forced himself to smile. “We are already working on the plan of liquidating Robin Hood’s good graces in England. Soon the population won’t love him.”

“They must love me!” John cried out.

”So Hood still lives,” Guy muttered under his breath, his brow darkening.

“Ah,” Allan said, suppressing a cry of joy.

“They will love you,” Vaisey said, a little scared to lose John’s favor.

“Attention, attention!” Prince John shrilled. “Now we are going to the agenda of the day. Today we gathered here to discuss our next move against my brother. We also have new members of our club, mainly Norman lords.” His eyes flew to the young man in blue brocade doublet. “Sir Robert de Vieuxpont, you may speak.”

Robert de Vieuxpont got to his feet and bowed to John. “As you know, the nobles of Normandy, Aquitaine, Anjou, Maine, and Brittany are very concerned about the absence of Richard Plantagenet. Two months ago, many lords swore their fealty to King John as they consider him the rightful King of England and the man who can bring prosperity into our lands.” A perfidious smile illuminated his face. “All these nobles proved their loyalty to our true king by signing _the Pact of Caen_ against Richard.”

Robert de Vieuxpont was employed in Normandy as a paymaster of troops and director of military works, including those on the Rouen Castle. Prince John had given de Vieuxpont establishing task to establish alliances against Richard with nobles of Normandy, Aquitaine, Anjou, Maine, and Brittany.

John grinned wryly. “Very good, Monsieur Robert! Very good! You love me!” He laughed. “And where is this document now? Tell us, tell us!” He looked as excited as a child receiving a new toy.

“ _The Pact of Caen_ was signed at the initiative of Monsieur Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, who is currently planning to kill the Lionheart,” Robert de Vieuxpont declared. “De Sablé is fighting in the Holy Land, alongside with other holy warriors; he requested that the Pact of Caen be delivered to him in Acre for the organization of a new attempt on King Richard’s life.”

The Black Knights began applauding, happy that the conspiracy had taken such deep roots: Robert de Sablé fought alongside Richard and had great power as Grand Master of the Knights Templar.

“Richard lost Lord Walter Sheridan who joined us some time ago. He also lost Monsieur Robert de Sablé, a man coming from the most respected noble families in Anjou and his leading Angevin vassal,” Prince John stated, his upper lip curling in vile delight. “My brother is unable to reward loyalty. Richard is losing his supporters in England, Normandy, Aquitaine, and Brittany.”

“It is time for action!” Sir Jasper cried out.

John laughed. “I am not like my brother. I know what loyalty is and how to reward it. Help me and you will win,” he said. “My lords, I am sure that you all have ambitions. Don’t feel embarrassed and voice your desires, let us have it out in the open between us.”

“Long live King John!” enthusiastic cries came, echoing throughout the chamber.

§§§

Guy of Gisborne watched Prince John with an impassive face, a half-smile on his lips. John had a sharp and cunning mind and was much cleverer than he had pretended. But John also was self-indulgent and greedy; John’s excellent conversational skills brought him popularity of a sort, but he had never been loved by the people as much as Richard was. Guy also knew that John certainly had no qualms about committing murder if it was in his interests, and he often wondered how long they would keep their heads in case of their failure to kill King Richard or the Queen Mother’s golden boy.

The sheriff leaned his head to Guy’s ear. “Gisborne, it is a bonny sight, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Guy whispered, his eyes fixed on the smiling prince.

“Gizzy, my dear boy, you should be loyal to me and you will win, together with Prince John and me. We will have everything: power and wealth beyond measure,” the sheriff murmured. “My boy, you owe me your absolute loyalty after everything I did for you and your sister. Without me, you wouldn’t have survived in Normandy.”

Guy averted his eyes from the prince and lowered his head. “I know that I owe you, my lord.” Sometimes, he thought that if the devil had ever walked on earth in the shape of a man, he would have looked like Vaisey or Prince John.

Prince John waited for the buzz of voices to die down, then spoke again, in a driving, rhythmic flow that held his listeners spellbound. “Now, now, my lords, we will talk about the next assassination attempt on Richard’s life,” he announced, his face alight with gladness, a large smile hovering over his lips. “Lord Vaisey has more detailed information about Sir Robert de Sablé’s mission.”

Vaisey lurched to his feet, sweeping his eyes over the Black Knights. “Sir Robert de Sablé is currently preparing to hire the Hashashin and make the lion give a last howl of pain.”

“That would be amazing,” Prince John said, laughing. “My brother must die in the Holy Land before he makes peace with Saladin. It would prove that he is _not the Lionheart but the Weaklingheart_!”

“Who are the Hashashin?” Allan asked Guy.

Guy grimaced. “The Hashashin are the Order of the Assassins. They are excellently trained religious warriors, fighting for power with other Muslims and with Christian invaders. They committed many political assassinations in the Holy Land.”

“They can kill King Richard?” Allan inquired.

Guy gave a nod. “If they fail, then I don’t know who can kill the lion.”

“Ah,” Allan breathed. The thought of King Richard’s assassination in the Holy Land made Allan fell ill with worry, guilt, and grief. Only the news that Robin was with the king eased his mind. Robin would defend the king, he told himself.

Prince John’s face darkened. “As Robin of Locksley is in the Holy Land, I have to ask you something.” He sighed. “It looks like he may become a great problem for us. Will the assassins be able to outsmart the royal guard and kill my brother?”

Sheridan cleared his throat, rubbed his nose, and spoke in a firm, confident voice. “It is a right decision to hire the Hashashin. Now, when Robin of Locksley again leads the king’s private guard, it is nearly impossible to kill Richard, and so regicide must be committed by highly professional assassins. The Hashashin are exactly what you need.”

“My king, please let me say some important things,” Vaisey interjected. He paused; the prince nodded in approval, and he went on. “Why do we need to fear Robin Hood? He is just a mere thief!” His face showed feigned shock. “From a high lord to a low criminal... from noble to nothing... from hero to zero... This is everything about Robin Hood.”

Prince John laughed at the sheriff. “If Hood is nothing, then why did you fail to kill him?”

Vaisey’s face darkened. “My liege, I–”

“Enough, Vaisey,” John cut him off, his gaze fixing on Sheridan. “Is Hood really so deadly with a bow and a sword, Lord Sheridan?” he inquired, furrowing.

“I trained Robin of Locksley as a knight and a soldier, and I know for sure that Robin is very good with a sword and a bow,” Sheridan assured the audience. “When Robin got a Saracen scimitar, a weapon better and lighter than a broadsword, his fighting skills became murderous. Robin’s extraordinary fighting skills made him the legend of the Holy Land,” he summarized.

“Is Hood bloodthirsty?” John whistled. “Hood’s motto is that he doesn’t kill.”

“Robin may be very bloodthirsty. At the beginning of the Crusade, after the Battle of Messina, the guards wagered how many men Lord Locksley killed in total, and they tried to count but stopped after the first battle in the Holy Land," Lord Sheridan informed. “Locksley fought like a possessed man in Messina, in Limassol, and in every battle in the Holy Land. I bet his arrows killed more than a thousand of the heathens. In a battle, Robin could use more than a hundred arrows, and King Richard asked the guards to collect unused arrows of fallen enemies with a special purpose to keep them for Robin.”

John smirked, his eyes mocking Sheridan. “Then why does Hood try to avoid killing in England?”

“I believe that Robin has grown tired of bloodshed,” Sheridan explained. “By the end of his time on the Crusade, he killed out of duty – to protect the king. He didn’t want to kill, but killed because he had to.”

“Hood is a killer, isn’t he?” Prince John wondered. “Interesting.”

“Sire, I wouldn’t say that Robin of Locksley is a killer. He has always been much more compassionate than other generals and soldiers,” Sheridan made a slight amendment. “Robin is extremely good at killing, and if he is seized with bloodlust, his enemies should flee and beg for mercy, for he can mercilessly slaughter them. I have seen him in such a role many times in Acre.”

Vaisey and Guy shared glances of understanding, remembering the bloody battles near a cave and on the Great North Road.

“Hmm,” John said. “I remember very young Robin of Locksley when he came to court. He was a skinny little thing, not like my brother Richard, muscular and tall.”

Sheridan smiled knowingly. “When I met Robin in Poitiers, he was fifteen. He was a young, slender boy, not very tall and strong to be a good warrior.” He smiled somewhat nostalgically. “I was very impressed with his archery skills, but I doubted that he would become an outstanding swordsman.”

“But you underestimated him,” the prince concluded.

Lord Sheridan was a little embarrassed. “Yes, but only at first.” He smiled. “Richard Plantagenet said that Robin would surpass my expectations, and he was absolutely right. By the end of the training, I saw a potential of a great warrior in Robin.”

“Go on,” John urged.

Sheridan smiled. “When Robin became a member of the king’s private guard, before his promotion to the position of captain, I was already impressed with his agile, unpredictable, sophisticated, conniving, and beautiful sword fighting style.” He chuckled. “Well, he is not a skinny boy anymore: now he is a handsome young man, muscled and strong enough. He is still of a slight build, but that doesn’t make him a bad fighter at all, for he expertly uses his relatively small size to his advantage.”

The prince's laugh filled the air. “Well, Hood certainly wasn't entertaining himself with the Saracen women during the Crusade. I wanted to have confirmation from someone who knows Hood and who trained him, and now I believe in what I have heard about him.”

Sheridan shook his head. “It is extremely difficult to overpower Robin in a fight.”

A long silence followed Sheridan’s words as Prince John thought of his new supporter’s words.

“I have heard a lot about Robin Hood’s reputation in the Holy Land. Some of Hood’s former comrades told me many stories about their brave captain,” Prince John mused. He pushed his hair off his forehead. “At times, I think that it would be good to have Locksley at our side.”

The Black Knights stared at Prince John in shocked awe. Vaisey’s eyes were darting around nervously. Guy felt his stomach lurching; anger spiraled in his heart, only to be supplanted by hatred for Robin Hood.

Lord Sheridan shook his head. “Locksley will never switch his sides. Never ever.”

“Then we will have him killed, in a due time,” Prince John said resolutely.

“Sire, it is rather unlikely that we have even a minor chance to kill your brother if Robert de Sablé fails. We will be unable even to approach the king’s camp because they are on a triple high alert,” Lord Sheridan countered. “Robin will give us no chance to approach the king. He would do everything to save his beloved Richard.” He smiled. “Locksley is a mischievous devil, as well as a bloodthirsty and extremely effective guard! There is no better man than Locksley to lead the private guard; only Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, might be Hood’s rival for this position.”   

John glanced quizzically at Sheridan. “Lord Sheridan, do you love me?”

Sheridan nodded to Prince John and, with a muttered word of apology, bowed. “My loyalty is with you, sire. I do love you.”

“Then never say such things,” John said brusquely.

“We just need an effective trap for Locksley,” Spenser intervened.

“There are always ways,” Buckingham said.

“We must kill Robin of Locksley,” Durham said.

“It is not easy. You cannot imagine what Locksley can do,” Sheridan contravened.

John’s strict face changed into a wide grin. “I always have an alternative plan.” His gaze shifted to the sheriff. “Lord Vaisey will be responsible for planning and organizing if Robert de Sablé fails.”

Vaisey knew that Prince John wasn’t pleased with his unsuccessful attempts to arrest Hood, for his failure had created a serious threat for the realization of the prince’s plans in the Holy Land. He was worried that Robert de Sablé might have succeeded in killing the king and come out of the deal laurel-crowned. That was not what the sheriff wanted.

The sheriff smiled. “My king,” he began, “I will do everything to serve you well.” He let out a smile. “I will make up an excellent plan. My people and I will go to Acre and kill the king.”

“Are you planning to take Guy of Gisborne with you?” John said with a mocking smile.

Vaisey nodded. “Yes. He is my right-hand man.”

John smiled as if at an absurdity. “I remember that Gisborne failed to kill my brother in Acre.”

“Robin of Locksley stopped him,” Sheridan pointed out.

Looking at the sheriff and the prince, Gisborne felt his body tense; he was stiff with anger. Everything in his life was tied to Robin of Locksley. Robin had thwarted his attack, and Guy had had to escape from the king’s camp. He had been was deprived of the only satisfaction– Locksley’s death as the man had managed to survive the nearly fatal wound. Hood was becoming a terrible thorn in his side as the outlaws completely ruined many of the sheriff’s plans in Nottingham. Prince John still remembered about Guy’s failure to kill King Richard, and the sheriff would undoubtedly humiliate Guy in the light of the prince’s remark.

Now Hood was again in the Holy Land. Guy was in agreement with Sheridan that if Robert de Sablé failed, their chances to kill the king would be negligible. They would have few chances to get close to the king’s camp as the unexpected Saracen raid was no longer an option; only the spies of the Black Knights in the king’s entourage could help them. Hood would surely keep a heavy guard around the king’s camp and would invent new methods to capture assassins.

Guy blinked. “My king, I beg your pardon,” he said obsequiously. “It will never happen again. I promise that I will eventually kill Hood and the king,” he said in a controlled tone, trying to control an increasing feeling of anxiety and unease.

John flashed an exuberant grin. “But you failed once, Sir Guy. You may fail again.”

Guy stiffened. “Milord, I won’t fail you again. I–“

John raised his hand. “Enough. I know what you want to say.” He stared at Vaisey. “Lord Vaisey, you and Gisborne will come to my apartment for a private conversation after lunch.”

Vaisey seethed with anger, but his face revealed nothing. He gave a fulminating glare to Gisborne and then looked at Prince John, smiling sweetly. “As you command, sire.”

“Save your oaths of loyalty for the day of my brother’s death, the day of boundless joy,” Prince John said encouragingly. He clapped his hands. “Now, my lords, enjoy meal and wine.”

The Black Knights rose to their feet and bowed to Prince John, who rose from the throne and headed to the exit, motioning them to follow him.

In the great hall, the Black Knights seated themselves at the long table; Sheriff Vaisey and the Earl of Buckingham seated themselves next to Prince John. Many beautiful ladies were at the feast, but, this time, they didn’t seat near John like on all other feasts, for the festivities followed the meeting of the Black Knights and the prince stayed close to his loyal men. The Black Knights flattered John and praised his choice of the menu and his taste in wine. Delicious food was served on silver platters and wine in silver goblets. The musicians played a sweet music throughout the meal.

Guy and Allan sat rather far from the sheriff, eating and drinking in silence.

Guy was secretly pleased to be away from his master for some time. Guy’s face was impassive, but he was very angry and also scared in anticipation of their audience with Prince John. Before the meeting of the Black Knights, Guy had been hungry, but after John’s reprimand, his spirits plummeted, and he lost his appetite. Guy found the food terrible and the wine much worse. Guy scoffed, thinking that Prince John should have consulted with his elder brother regarding choices of wine for banquets at court, for Richard was known for a great taste for wine.

Prince John and the Black Knights enjoyed the feast and were absorbed in a breezy conversation. Suddenly, John signaled Vaisey to stand up and relocate to the end of the table. Then John beckoned to himself the young brunette dressed in a stylish blue muslin gown, with an ample skirt and sleeves trimmed with white lace. The lady smiled and rose to her feet from her seat, slowly walking to the prince’s table. The lady dropped into a deep curtsey and then seated herself at John’s right side.

Allan scoffed. “It is very funny that the sheriff was commanded by the prince to take a seat so far from him,” he broke the silence as he watched Vaisey seat down in a high-back chair near Sir Jasper of Ashton and Sir Robert de Vieuxpont.

Guy raised a goblet of wine to his lips, struggling with the desire to make a toast for the sheriff’s public humiliation. “You know that the prince is not pleased with our failures. That’s the result.”

Allan sipped wine. “But Lord Buckingham remained at the prince’s left.”

Guy placed the empty goblet on the table. “Buckingham enjoys Prince John’s highest favor and he has never failed to please the prince.” His eyes scanned Buckingham’s smiling face, and he drummed his fingers on the table. “Moreover, Buckingham is Vaisey’s old and close friend. I have known him for more than fifteen years; I met the earl in Rouen years ago.”

Allan looked at Vaisey and then veered his gaze to Buckingham; his expression changed into curiosity. “I didn’t know about that. They must have their own secrets.”

Guy sighed ruefully. “That is exactly what I fear.”

Allan’s eyes took in the face of the lady who chatted with the prince. “Who is this lovely lady whom the prince honored so much, Guy?”

Leaning back in his chair, Guy let his eyes linger on the prince’s lover before looking at Allan. “This is Lady Suzanne de Warenne, the prince’s cousin. Several years ago, she gave birth to John’s child – Richard FitzRoy, Baron of Chilham.” He chuckled. “She is one of Prince John’s numerous mistresses.”

“Ah, I know that the prince likes ladies.”

“Allan, speak more quietly. We are not alone,” Guy warned, looking around.

At Guy’s words, the lady, who sat next to him, turned to face Guy, her eyes blazing with hatred. She was Lady Agnes of Stoke, Roger of Stoke’s young cousin and only surviving relative. She knew what Guy had done and hated him with all her heart. During the feast, Guy caught Agnes’s disdainful gazes on himself, which contrasted so much with rapt looks which other ladies gave him.

Guy flicked his gaze to Lady Agnes. He wondered why the lady was so unfriendly, but he feared to ask her; eventually, curiosity prevailed. "My lady, have I somehow disappointed you?"

Agnes of Stoke laughed contemptuously. “You killed my cousin, Sir Guy of Gisborne.”

Guy felt as if the floor were trembling under his feet. “Who was he?” He needed to know.

“Roger of Stoke,” Agnes supplied in a chilly voice. “Now I have to be at court because Prince John hasn’t granted me the titles of property for my cousin’s lands yet.”

Allan almost choked on his wine. “Blimey,” he murmured.

Guy’s chief feeling was one of shock mingled with dread. “I am sorry,” he said after a pause. That was all he could offer to the relative of the man whom he had murdered.

Gisborne felt almost sick at the memory of how he had found Roger of Stoke and had murdered him. Guy had stopped Roger on the way to his village from the town; he had introduced himself as Robin’s friend and had asked for a minute of privacy. Roger had looked at Guy suspiciously, but he had agreed. As soon as Roger had dismounted, Guy had advanced forward and had plunged his dagger into Roger’s heart. Then he had ordered shocked Allan to dig a grave in a nearby forest; they had thrown Roger’s corpse there without giving Guy’s victim a Christian burial.

“Nothing will ever return Roger to me,” Agnes said. “I only wish to know where you buried my cousin after you had cruelly taken his life.”

An uncharacteristically embarrassed Guy stammered, “I… I…”

“I am sorry,” Allan murmured.

Agnes swung her gaze at Allan. “Ah, you must be Allan-a-dale who betrayed Robin Hood for coins.”

Allan’s eyes grew wide. “How do you know about Robin and me?” He was utterly shocked with Agnes’s words, also feeling ashamed of himself at the moment.

“What a strange question!” Agnes gave Allan a look of disdain. “Roger was Robin’s close friend.”

Allan and Guy shared shocked glances. It seemed that Robin had informed Roger of Stoke’s cousin about her brother’s murder after Allan’s banishment from the gang.

Guy gave Agnes a sharp look. “Robin Hood is a criminal and an outlaw. Anyone who helps him and his gang goes against the king’s law and must be punished.”

Agnes laughed into Guy’s face. “I doubt Robin Hood will be an outlaw for a long time. I think King Richard will send a messenger from the Holy Land carrying Robin’s pardon.” She arched a brow. “And how can you call Robin a criminal if you are a callous beast who kills innocents in cold blood?”

After Agnes’s speech, several people, sitting close to them, directed their gazes at Guy.

“Lady Agnes, you should watch your tongue,” Guy said, his eyes glowing dangerously.

Agnes chuckled. “What will you do to me, Sir Guy? Will you kill me like you killed my cousin?” Her small hand touched a goblet of wine. “Should I start fearing for my life?”

An infuriated Guy gritted his teeth. “Don’t be ridiculous, my lady.”

“You are fond of killing those whom you don’t like, and you hate everyone associated with Robin.” The lady’s tone was nonchalant and cold.

“Lady Agnes, it is not the best time to talk about that,” Allan interposed.

Agnes ignored Allan and focused her attention on Guy. “Gisborne may kill everyone, even children.” She shrugged. “After all, he left his own son to die in the forest. Only beasts can kill their own children!”

The Black Knights who watched the exchange paused and stared at Guy. Several women gasped in shock, shaking their heads in disbelief and looking as if they were about to faint. The Earl of Spenser and the Earl of Durham smiled malevolently at Guy.

Guy turned ghostly pale. Agnes had apparently met Robin Hood before Robin’s departure to Acre. “You don’t know everything, Lady Agnes, even though someone told you something very bad about me.”

Agnes sipped wine. “And what do I have to know?”

Guy looked down at himself, his eyes taking in the sight of his black leather jacket. Although his heart was like a moonless night, he would have never murdered his own son. “I didn’t leave the boy in Sherwood,” he said quietly. “I paid one of my loyal men, George, and ordered to take my son Seth to Kirklees Abbey. Later George returned and reported that he had delivered the baby to the abbey.” He sighed. “I didn’t know that he had left the child in the forest.”

Guy knew that Robin Hood had found Seth in the forest: the outlaw had thrown the news into Guy’s face, enjoying his humiliation. Shocked to learn the truth about Seth’s fate, Guy had found George in Locksley, forcing him to confess that he had left Seth in the forest and then had taken Guy’s money for himself. Guy had murdered George in an outburst of anger. Guy only knew that Robin had sent Annie and Seth away from Nottingham; he assumed that Robin had taken care of them and they were alright.

“Who will believe you, Gisborne?” Agnes shot back waspishly. “Nobody!”

“It is your deal, my lady,” Guy said dismissively, trying to seem indifferent.

Agnes of Stoke jumped to her feet. “I will find another place for myself. A murderer always stinks from a head downwards – I cannot stay here.” She cast a scornful glance at Guy and then walked away.

"Guy?" Allan asked tentatively.

"Shut up, Allan." Guy’s tone deemed that it was wise not to argue.

Guy and Allan spent the rest of the banquet in silence. Guy remembered the day of Roger of Stoke’s murder over and over again, not even looking at Allan. Allan was reluctant to break the silence, afraid that his master would work off his anger on him. Each of them wanted the day to be over.

§§§

After the festivities, Vaisey and Guy were summoned to the royal reception room. They both were anxious, unaware of what John would tell them. The only known topic for discussion was Queen Eleanor’s illegitimate son, whom they were still trying to find so hard without success. John's rage could be terrible when his desires were impossible to be satisfied or when his authority was undermined.

Arriving at the prince’s chambers, the sheriff and Guy were permitted to go inside without waiting. They entered the enormous room with whitewashed walls and luxurious decorations. The heavy Flemish tapestries embroidered with gold and silver ornaments matched the upholstery of high-backed armchairs and three footstools placed along one wall. The light was strong enough to admire gold and silver ornamentation of the high white ceiling.

Prince John lounged in a high back armchair, his legs stretched forward on the carpet. He smiled at Vaisey and Guy and took a gulp of wine from the wine cup he held in his right hand.

Vaisey bowed to John. “Sire, we are at your disposal.”

Gisborne bowed. “At your service, milord,” he said politely.

“I wanted to talk to you in private,” Prince John said, his voice pleasant enough, although he seemed bored. “Do you have any news about my mother’s illegitimate son?”

“Unfortunately, we don’t,” Vaisey replied apologetically, straightening from his bow. He knew that it would displease the prince, but he couldn’t lie to the future sovereign of England.

Prince John raised a brow. “Why, Lord Vaisey?”

“We need more time, Sire. We would also be grateful for more information if you can provide us with,” Vaisey replied neutrally.

“Hmm,” the prince grumbled, pinning the sheriff with a glare. “You disappoint me, Lord Vaisey. Do you at least have the list of suspects?”

Vaisey nodded. “Yes, milord.” He pursed his lips. “As you informed us about the queen’s love for the boy, we have concluded that the Queen Mother was more than likely to keep her son at her court, in Poitou.” He smiled. “We think that if your brother knows about the boy’s existence, he is likely to favor him very much.”

John took a sip of small wine. “Sometimes, my brother can be very cunning. He may keep the boy in his sight, but not necessarily always by his side and in high favor.”

“We worked hard on the list of the names of the nobles and narrowed it down to several names,” the sheriff continued. He stared at Gisborne. “Gisborne, tell His Highness the names.”

“The bastard may be one of your brother’s favorites, including Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester; Sir Robert de Vere, the Earl of Oxford; Sir Roger de Lacy, Baron of Pontefract; Sir Geoffrey de Fougères; Sir William de Mowbray; and Sir Roger of Stoke,” Guy said in a monotonous intonation.

“Roger of Stoke is dead. Gisborne killed the man,” Vaisey intervened. “Maybe the queen’s bastard is already dead and worms are eating his body.”

“Yes, I killed him,” Guy confirmed.

"No,” came the prince’s cold reply. "We are not sure that Sir Roger of Stoke was my mother’s bastard. And even if he was the bastard is dead, I wanted him alive.”

“At that time, my liege, we didn’t know that Roger of Stoke could have been the Queen Mother’s illegitimate son,” Vaisey defended them. “And if he was your mother’s son, then why did she say that she asked your bother, sire, to take him under his protection?”

“Good, Vaisey, good!” John’s lips arched in a smile. “Sir Roger of Stoke is not the man we are looking for, unless Gisborne didn’t kill him or if my mother doesn’t know that Roger is already dead. Could this Roger survive or stage his death?”

“No,” Guy assured the prince. “I myself killed him. My man, Allan, and I buried him.”

“Well, positive news,” the prince said with a laugh.

“Yes, milord.” Gisborne shut his eyes, thinking of Roger’s death. He was ashamed of how violently and cruelly he had murdered his victim. And what if Roger was the queen’s son? Strangely, he felt almost sick of guilt at the thought that he had probably killed Queen Eleanor’s son.

“All the men in the list are favored by Richard. I don’t think my dear mother’s illegitimate son is Sir Roger de Lacy, the Baron of Pontefract. I have liked de Lacy very much and I would be angry if you, Vaisey, cause him any harm,” the prince warned.

“Understood,” Vaisey croaked.

“I have no opinion of the others,” the prince said after a long pause. He looked thoughtful. “I have heard that my brother favored three men on the Crusade the most; they received an unofficial status of grand favorites. Isn’t Robin of Locksley also Richard’s grand favorite?”

Vaisey and Guy exchanged alarmed glances.

Vaisey gave a slow nod. “Hood is called a grand favorite.”

Guy shook his head. “I myself excluded Robin Hood from the list of suspects. Hood cannot be the man we are looking for. He is the son of Elizabeth of Locksley and Malcolm of Locksley. His mother died in childbirth.”

A puzzled John leaned forward in his armchair. “Sir Guy, how can you be so sure that it is not Hood?” He laughed. “Did you see Lady Elizabeth of Locksley pregnant with Hood? Or maybe you helped get Hood into her belly?”

The sheriff patted Guy’s arm. “Gizzy, come on! Don’t be modest! Did you seduce Hood’s mother? Did you kiss her in her lips? I have heard that she was a beautiful lass! Did you throw her into the hay at the stables in Locksley? Did your parents know about your small… pranks with the lady?”

“Well, well, answer Gisborne!” John took enormous pleasure in Vaisey’s funny games; it was one of the reasons why he liked the sheriff’s company.

“My lord, I… I…” Guy turned paler as the winter snow. “I was a small boy at that time.”

Vaisey let out a laugh and jested, “How sweet, how charming it would be if you were Hood’s father, Gizzy. Imagine, Gisborne, we would have had Hoodie of Gisborne, not of Locksley, then!” He playfully brushed his hand across Guy’s chest. “Gizzy, is Hoodie of Gisborne your son? I know how you can charm and seduce lepers. Your charm is like a drizzling rain… It drenches you to the bone and you are slowly growing weaker, but in the end this rainy and dark charm doesn’t crush you and Gizzy fails. His charm didn’t help him kill Hood.” He playfully cupped Guy’s face. “Gizzy, even your name sounds so similar to a drizzling rain! Gizzy and drizzly! Oh, this is sweet!” He drew back from Guy.

Prince John almost gurgled with laughter. Guy reddened and paled in turn, and then he hung his head; he was shocked with the tons of humiliation the sheriff was putting him through.

“Great, Lord Vaisey! I love you! You have a brilliant sense of humor!” Prince John applauded.

Vaisey bowed. “Gizzy – dizzy – drizzly! Laugh and the world laughs together with you; weep and be alone!”

“Don’t make me laugh so hard. I may take it unkindly.” The prince tried to recover from laughter. “Well, we had a good laugh. Now back to the matter. I doubt that Gisborne saw the said lady heavy with child. Everything could have happened.”

An inwardly seething Guy elucidated, “Sire, I remember that Lady Elizabeth was apparently with child, although I was very young. I also remember very well the day when Hood was born. The villagers were in deep mourning for Lady Elizabeth who died on the day of Hood’s birth.”

John measured Guy with an evaluating glance. “Oh, it has slipped from my mind! Your family, Gisborne, was dispossessed and the lands were included in the Locksley estates.” He sniggered. “You and Hood are old enemies. Hood took the Gisborne lands from you, but you still failed to kill him.”

“Milord, I tried–” Guy began.

Prince John heckled Guy and spoke in an incensed voice. “Gisborne, I begin to believe that Lord Vaisey may be right: sometimes you may become a hapless and incompetent, like a flag carrier who ventures into battle with no weapons. You tried so hard to capture Hood that you allowed him to disappear and return to Acre.” He pointed an angry finger at Guy. “You also failed to kill my brother in Acre. Maybe a Saracen woman from one of the brothels in Acre cast her outlandish spell on you, and you were unable to fight during the attack like a knight of your rank should? You have failed me many times!”

Guy stood firm as he defended himself. “Milord, it is just an annoying coincidence that I failed!”

“And why did you fail?” John pressed on.

Guy’s face was burning with embarrassment. “Hood interfered, although I wounded him and left him to bleed into the sand. I stabbed him and it seemed that it was a mortal wound, but he wasn’t dead.”

John feigned frustration. “You disappoint me, Sir Guy.” His gaze flew to the sheriff. “Lord Vaisey, Gisborne is so soft, like a meek woman. I doubt he will be able to kill Richard.”

Vaisey gave Guy a fierce glare and then flitted his gaze to John. “I will also travel to the Holy Land. I will invent the plan and make sure that the king is killed. Gisborne will just accompany me.”

“Sire, if I may–” Gisborne said, biting his lip, looking down at the ground.

John interrupted Guy. “No, you may not, Sir Guy. You said enough. At least now we know that Hood is most likely not my mother’s son.”

Guy clenched his fists. “Yes, milord.”

“Haha!” the prince thundered, laughing derisively. “Gisborne, don’t be afraid of Hood! You will have a chance to settle scores with him.”

“I am not afraid of this criminal,” Guy defended himself.

The prince leaned back in his chair, then tapped the tips of his fingers against his wine cup. John regarded Gisborne with a scoff, and Guy realized that he was losing the prince’s trust. He suddenly felt very embarrassed in front of his prince and future king.

Smiling, John reached up to his hair and ran his hand through it. “Facts give the contrary evidence, Sir Guy,” he said. “Your failures to kill the king and then to capture Hood prove that you make many mistakes, although nobody can deny that you are an excellent swordsman.”

“Thank you. I treasure your praise, milord,” an elated Guy said in a lighter tone.

John’s smile was mocking. “Sir Guy, you must prove yourself.”

The sheriff chuckled in amusement. “Sire, you are correct! Since his marriage, Gisborne grew more and more lenient towards peasants and prisoners. He collects taxes and performs his duties very well, but he is soft and lazy.” He gazed at Guy, an insolent sneer manifesting on his face. “Gizzy, my boy, your dear wife, your missy, is not only your blessing but also your curse!”

The prince laughed. “I know what is happening to Gisborne. He is enjoying the pleasure his wife gives him in their bed. Lust has seized not only his family jewels but also his brain!” He laughed again, louder. “Vaisey, you should keep an eye on Sir Guy as your right-hand man can become weaker if he spends too much time in a bed with our dear Lady Marian, this delicious piece of female flesh.”

Vaisey’s face was imbued with mockery. “Lepers, lepers, lepers!”

“My dear Vaisey, you always have a clever and witty answer, which cannot be said about Sir Guy,” Prince John mocked. “Sir Guy should develop a sense of humor.”

The sheriff snarled, “I bet Gizzy will never learn to take pleasure of mischief.”

“I have heard Robin Hood is a mischief-maker,” John put in. “Maybe he should have a lesson with our friend Hood to learn what mischief is.”

“Learning is necessary for Gisborne,” the sheriff said firmly. “Gizzy will continue obeying me and doing what I command. He will eventually learn.”

To avoid meeting the gazes of the sheriff and the prince, Guy lowered his head and regarded the clean white borders of his fingernails. He barely managed to hide a look of disgust that threatened to cross his face. He would have made a rebuke towards Vaisey if they had been alone, but he didn’t dare say anything in the prince’s presence. He wanted to run away from the lecherous prince and the mocking sheriff. He felt unutterably weary and emotionally devastated, and he needed solitude.

Prince John glanced at Vaisey in the eye. “Lord Sheriff, I have a great assassin who can kill Richard and Robin Hood. The Sheriff of York recommended him to me. The young man sold him a lot of the Byzantine fire and demonstrated outstanding fighting skills.” He smiled. “The Sheriff of York reported that the man was interested in a contract to capture Robin Hood.”

“Why do we need this man, milord?” Vaisey shot back, affronted. “We can do everything without him. Gisborne, our Saracen allies, and I will be enough for the mission.”

“No, Lord Vaisey!” John frowned at them. “I must be sure that Richard will be killed if Robert de Sablé fails and you have to go to Acre. This assassin from York is deadly with a sword and even more deadly with a bow. The Sheriff of York swore that this young man shoots like Robin Hood and is as murderous with a sword as Hood.” He sneered. “This man can be even a better swordsman than Richard and Robin Hood.” He laughed merrily. “He is surely a better swordsman than you, Sir Guy.”

Guy was hardly able to look at the prince and averted his gaze. He was angry, humiliated, and ashamed. And everything went wrong because of Robin of Locksley.

“Who is this assassin?” Vaisey asked, intrigued.

“I know that his name is Archer,” John responded, with a twitch of his lips. “What a funny name!”

“Haha!” Vaisey thundered. “This is a comic name.”

“Vaisey, if you have to travel to the Holy Land, you will take Archer and Gisborne with you,” John ordered. “One of you will be able to finish off the lion. Archer will come to London soon, and Lord Sheridan will check his skills.”

“As you wish, my king,” the sheriff agreed sulkily, his mouth twisting.

Prince John emptied his goblet of wine and threw it into the wall. He looked at the sheriff for a moment, silent. “I will no longer tolerate failures, Vaisey. I know you can do a lot more than you have achieved by now. Think man, think! I need results! Results! Or you will suffer the consequences!”

“This time, we won’t fail,” Vaisey said, his mood somber, but his evil heart full of hope and plans.

“ _Continue searching for my mother’s illegitimate son_ ,” Prince John commanded. “It is a personal matter for me. I have nothing against the royal bastard and I don’t care for him, but I want to teach my dear mother a lesson.” His face turned angry, but then he smiled craftily. “My own mother doesn't love me; she is against me and my ambitions to take the crown. I hate her for loving Richard and her bastard while I have always been neglected by her. I hate that Richard knows her secret and helps her hide it, while I am aware of nothing, as usual.” His clenched his fists. “But I will teach her a lesson.”

“We will find the queen’s bastard,” Vaisey assured. “We will work day and night. We will detain him and you, sire, will be able to do with him what you want.”

“Vaisey, control Gisborne. He needs a right hand to lead him in life,” John recommended.

Vaisey brushed his hand across Guy’s shoulder, as though tenderly. “I will take care of my boy. I have always taken care of him.”

Guy lowered his chin, not wishing to meet Vaisey’s sneering eyes. He was silently shaking with helpless anger and indignation that Prince John had given Vaisey so much power over him.

Prince John glowered. “You cannot fail me again,” he threatened. “Take what time you need, but not very much, and report to me your findings about my mother’s son.”

“We will work on the deal,” Vaisey muttered, bowing submissively.

John eyed the sheriff and Guy somberly. “You must devise an effective plan in case you have to travel to Acre.”

Vaisey regarded the prince with a crooked half-smile. “Sire, we will do everything to please you.”

“Now leave.” John glowered at them and then put his hands on his temples. “Our meeting gave me a few headaches.”

“Sire,” Vaisey and Guy said together, bowing; them they walked out of the chamber.

Prince John was alone in his chamber not for long. Soon the prince’s servant announced that he had a visitor, and the woman dressed in a luxurious blue brocade gown with fur trim on the sleeves entered the chamber. She stood serenely at the doorway and sank into a deep curtsey to the prince. There was a black silk mask on her face that covered all her face, except for her mouth and her lower jaw, for she had come to the White Tower incognito, not wishing to make her visit known to anyone.

John permitted her to rise in a moment and climbed to his feet. His guest was impressive herself: classy, elegant, and stunningly beautiful. As she rose from her curtsey, her eyes locked with the prince’s, and he gasped for air, his heart pounding harder, his entire body pulsing with desire. He took in the sight of her smooth, creamy skin, her long dark hair, and her steel blue eyes, like a pool of still mountain water, watching him through the slits in the mask.

“My dear, I was waiting for you,” the prince said with a large smile. “Come to me! Come here!”

“As my king wishes,” the woman answered as she stalked towards her lover.

John stopped next to her and took her hands in his. “I think you don’t need this anymore.” He brought his hand to her mask and removed it from her face. The mask fell to the floor, and he eyed her lovely face shining with a smile. His entire body was tense with lust, and powerful desire coursed through his loins. “I prefer to see a lady’s face if I fancy her, and I like you very much.”

She leaned forward to John, her beautiful face lit with delight and gladness, as if she were truly happy to see him. Candlelight brought out the soft glow of her skin, highlighting the graceful curve of her cheekbones. “I am very happy to see my king. I wanted and needed to be with you so much,” she said, smiling at him from under her long dark eyelashes, but it was a fake smile.

The lady let out a deep sigh of grief, frustration, and tiredness; so many feelings were mingled in just one seemingly meaningless sigh. The blinding truth struck her heart – she wanted to be out of the prince’s presence with every part of her tormented and anguished heart that somersaulted at the very thought of being _‘a royal mistress’,_ for it wasn’t the path her mother would have wanted her to follow. She didn’t want to be with him in the same room, in the same palace, and, of course, not in his bed, but she had no other choice if she wished to have a different life. Some good people, like Robin of Locksley, could be good without obstruction because God just loved them, but it was not her case.

She smiled at Prince John. She was relieved that he couldn’t gauge her real thoughts and he could see nothing suspicious behind her courtly, honeyed smile, although there was the steel light in her eyes, which her lover usually took as a sign of her gayety and cheerfulness she was supposed to feel in his company. She loathed the man in front of her because he was a royal wastrel, who squandered his life in shallow, careless ways but who, however, was a prince by birth and, thus, a man of privileged and exclusive life. That was all about him, and she understood that very well, but she couldn’t let her guard down, letting her true feelings slip from behind the façade of gladness, or she would lose everything. Everything that had happened between her and the prince in the past months was beyond her comprehension, but she was going to use her chance and play her game with the prince and the world.

Prince John was all the woman needed to change her life – the highest social standing in the Angevin Empire and in England, the great power and authority he possessed and exercised in King Richard’s absence, and the intelligent, cunning, and ambitious head that would eventually lead to his accession to the throne of England. In the high society, noblewomen were rightless and voiceless, and they didn’t have favorable marital rights unless they belonged to the English royal family, which wasn’t her case as there was no Plantagenet blood in her veins. Women were and probably would never be truly and fully equal, legally or in perception, to men, but she still wanted to make advances in a political area, gain better social standing, and have power, and John was the only man who could make her dreams come true. At least the prince wasn’t ugly and was an experienced lover, who was much more caring for her pleasure during their intimacies than her husband had ever been.

John laughed smugly. “All women crave to be with me. No one has ever complained that I am a bad lover,” he said with confidence. “All my mistresses are beauties, like you.”

“You are quite right, sire. You have a most discerning eye for beauty,” she flattered him. “You also have a shrewd and keen mind. You are sagacious, intelligent, and wise.” She smiled. “All those who love you are impressed by this talented mind of yours so much!”

John didn’t smile. His face was set in firm lines too old for his youthful years. “Before you came, I had two annoying visitors – Vaisey and Gisborne.” He sighed. “I hope that they won’t fail me again.”

The woman smiled, this time with real gladness. The conversation about Vaisey and Gisborne was a much more practical and simultaneously diverting topic than the empty wasteland of time she had had while exchanging pleasantries with the prince. She wanted to learn more about the two men whom she hated wholeheartedly, but she couldn’t reveal her extreme anxiety to her new lover. She could become a member of the Black Knights Club only if her moves were well thought out and cautious, as well as executed remorselessly and ruthlessly, and with surprising confidence, even if she often found it hard to muster the courage to continue weaving her intrigues. A clever and intelligent woman, she knew that danger was stalking her from all sides and every wrong move could be her downfall and even death.

She swiftly emerged from her thoughts, and looked at John, flashing a flamboyant smile. “Your subjects should love and please you instead of disappointing you, my king. What did they do?”

Prince John pulled his gaze from his mistress and stared into the orange glow leaped out from the hearth. Then he turned his head to look at his mistress. When his eyes met hers, the firestorm of desire burned inside him, and thoughts about everything else perished from his mind. He was walking a thin line of control here, for he wanted to take her here and now – he craved her more than ever. He exhaled sharply, the sound loud in the silent chamber.

“It is not a time for business,” an already aroused John affirmed. As quickly as a hurricane can change its path, he caught her about her waist and lifted her up, just like in a dance. She laughed at him and lifted her hands in the air, too, as if she were trying to touch the sky. “I have some more pleasant thoughts on my mind.” He put her on her feet and scooped her into his arms. “I will tell you everything you want later.”

The woman laughed, a sound of pure, innocent joy. She loved his playful nature, even though she despised his philandering ways of life. Maybe not everything was as bad in her unexpected alliance with the prince, she thought. “As you wish, sire. I am yours,” she whispered.

John grasped his lover’s waist and planted a quick kiss on her lips. Then he easily carried her to the table, and slammed her onto it. He pulled her skirts out of his way, and he reached out with his hand to trace the curves of her legs and caress her thighs. She parted her legs for him, one of her hands already unlacing his trousers. They joined together with the force of a thunderstorm as he thrust into her with a violent movement of his hips, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

His eyes glowed as he stared into her eyes, moving inside her faster. She grasped his hair, feeling him place his lips on her neck, where the pulse was fluttering wildly. Although the experience was new for her and she was taken aback by the prince’s actions, she was able to relax in his arms and enjoyed their encounter, savoring the moments of pleasure her skillful lover was giving her. In the aftermath, the lovers sat on the table for a long moment in the same position – the woman’s legs straddling the prince’s hips as they were getting their breathing under control, their limbs still entwined.

John was charmed by the intimacy of the moment, wishing to stay like this forever, but, eventually, he sighed. “I am sorry that it happened so quickly,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

The lady was pleasantly surprised with his words, for he seemed to care for her or he pitied her, but she preferred the first option. “Oh, my king,” she breathed. “It was amazing.”

The prince had never been careful with his lovers, but her case was exceptional as he was well aware of her husband’s reputation. Although he was mad with passion when they were together, he always tried to be gentle with her, but he was delighted to find a passionate spirit in her. “You don’t need to worry about your husband. You are not going back to him.”

She blinked her eyes in amazement. “What?” Her voice was a mere whisper.

He chuckled. “I wanted you only for myself! That’s why I appealed to Archbishop of Canterbury who permitted your separation from your husband. You don’t have to live with him anymore, and I am intending to give you several estates where I can visit you.” A shadow of disappointment passed over his face. “So far I don’t want to make our relationship public, but, this time, will come very soon.”

She blinked again, her mind struggling to grasp the meaning of his announcement. She ran her trembling fingers through the red strands of his hair. “Is that real?” The whole world turned dazzling white around her, and she felt something she hadn’t known for so long – relief and contentment.

John smiled at the childish expression of disbelief on her face. “Yes. The official separation agreement between you and your husband will be signed next week. I will supervise the event and ensure that all legal procedures are done properly.” He cupped her face and glanced into her eyes, his breath washing her face. "I wish that I could have spared you the pain of being with this man before. I don’t like when great women like you are mistreated.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, deeply touched. “Thank you,” she reiterated. He wasn’t a man whom she could love, but their liaison was so beneficial and even pleasurable.

She kissed Prince John, and he kissed her back, his lips moving from her mouth down her neck and then reaching her ear and then back to her lips. Kissing her lover, she thought that John was like a cunning, wild tiger that needed to be approached gingerly and be dealt with cautiously because it could rip her heart out if she dared betray him or move in the opposite direction. It took a touch of genius and a lot of courage to understand the prince’s intricately woven plots and then to offer her sound advice to him, but she welcomed this challenge because upside potential was unlimited.

§§§

Vaisey and Guy left Prince John’s chamber and slowly walked to their apartments. The prince’s words were ringing in their ears, adding to the existing anxiety and worries, which had already taken their roots in them. As they were alone in the corridor, the sheriff gripped Guy’s forearm and stopped him.

Vaisey gave Guy a sinister look. “Gisborne, you are a spineless idiot! Prince John was angry that you failed to kill Hood and the king. You made the prince angry.”

An ashamed and angry Guy dropped his stare and turned away. “It is not my fault, my lord.”

“Gisborne, Gisborne! You are such an idiot that I can lose my favor because of your failures!” the sheriff cried out in indignation. He was silent for a moment, regarding Guy. He gripped Guy’s arm and turned him to face himself. “Nothing to say, Gizzy?” His voice was throaty with laughter. “Make sure that you become yourself again. Otherwise, I will replace you with this Archer.”

Guy made a sarcastic sound through pursed lips. “Archer,” he drawled, tasting the name. “You even don’t know him.”

“Then concentrate and help me plan and organize regicide, Gisborne! Your laziness and weakness will no longer be tolerated!” Vaisey cried out irritably. “I have a feeling that de Sablé will fail. And we must devise a plan to beat Hood and the king’s guards and kill both the king and Hood.” He sounded enthusiastic.

Guy looked at him sidelong. “Of course, milord.”

Vaisey scoffed. “Gisborne, I think you need a distraction. Why can’t you follow the custom of court and take a lover?” It was difficult to say whether he sounded serious or mocking. “You may sleep with many beautiful lepers here unless you have changed your preferences and now like power more.”

“You have everything I need, my lord.”

The sheriff croaked with a laugh. “Being a married man doesn’t mean that you must be devoted to only one woman, all the more your annoying leper wife.” He grinned at his henchman waspishly. “My dear boy, are you choosing physical continence? Or are you planning to live in celibacy? When we lived in Normandy, you bedded many servant girls and peasant lasses. You also went to brothels, from time to time… if I permitted you that. The girls liked your… dark charm and your strong arms.”

Guy disliked when the sheriff talked to him about his old love adventures even more than about his marriage. He lowered his eyes, embarrassment flooding him. “It is in the past.”

Guy had had love affairs with many women; he was an experienced lover and knew how to please a woman in a bed. Unlike knights of his age, he hadn’t tasted a lot of sin in his early youth as he had struggled for every penny after his banishment from Locksley; but it didn’t mean that he had lived in celibacy and had no lovers at all. After Guy had started working for Vaisey, he had many opportunities to enjoy carnal pleasures with young girls, some of whom had been maidens.

“But, of course, that’s the last activity which would interest you, my boy.” He scowled. “This leper has wrapped you around her finger, damn her.”

Guy's eyes flashed as he fingered his blade. “My lord, you do Marian and me injustice. We are–”

The sheriff cut off his henchman’s speech. “I am the sheriff, and my word is just and true, Gisborne. I want my old Gisborne back.”

“Yes, my lord,” Guy said automatically.

The sheriff smiled and stepped aside. “By all means, Gizzy, be like the other Black Knights! Look at the Earl of Buckingham who is simultaneously keeping several mistresses. You should find a mistress, get a servant girl in your chambers, or go to the finest brothel in London.” He scoffed. “Lord Sheridan told the prince that Robin Red Breast had changed many bedmates in just several days while he had been on Cyprus. Hood had entertained himself on a grand scale.”

Guy’s eyes nailed his master for several terrifying seconds, and then a satisfied smile appeared on his face. He was pleased that Hood didn’t live in celibacy after his departure, and now he could blacken Hood’s image in Marian’s eyes. “I will think about that, but not today.”

Vaisey cast him a sly look. “Will you ever think about that, Guy? Some men may be quite used to amusing themselves, but you are not one of them. And it is a pity.”

The sheriff patted Guy’s shoulder, this time tenderly and lovingly. His short and chubby fingers slid down Guy’s jaw line, while his thumb brushed in a gentle stroke just above the corner of Guy’s mouth. Then the old man took a step back, still staring at Guy.

Guy cringed at the sheriff’s actions. He often didn’t know whether the sheriff treated him like a son or like a potential lover. Guy was aware that, from time to time, Vaisey slept with both men and women, and at times Vaisey’s deep affection for him frightened him.

“My lord, I… I…” Guy didn’t know what to say.

“It is alright, my boy.” Vaisey’s mouth quirked up in a condescending smile. “We are staying at court for two more days, and tomorrow we will start planning regicide.”

They resumed walking down the tower stairs as they spoke about the regicide attempt. Strangely, Guy didn’t feel enthusiastic at the thought of killing King Richard; he had been more willing to kill the king two years ago than now. He discovered that he was reluctant to go to the Holy Land and again attempt regicide, especially now, when they had so many chances – too many chances – to fail. The very idea of making a new attack on the Crusaders’ camp, masquerading as a Saracen, was revolting.

The sheriff left Guy on the stairs and headed to find the Earl of Spenser and the Earl of Buckingham. Guy sighed with relief when he returned to his bedchamber. He wondered why Vaisey was so close to Buckingham and whether they were plotting something he wasn’t aware of; he had a feeling that there was something he didn’t know about the activities of the Black Knights.

He went to the table with a decanter of wine and poured out a full goblet. Almost idly he took a goblet into his hands and in the dim light of the candle examined it; then he stared into inside, imagining that red liquid was Robin Hood’s blood. He drained the whole goblet and then poured another one. He put a decanter to his lips and started making huge gulps. Then he licked his lips and dropped himself into a chair, his long legs sprawling out; he was hugging a half-empty decanter of wine.

Guy stared into the emptiness, and his mind traveled to the past, to the happy time of his childhood when his parents had been alive and every day had been bright and happy. His parents had been so happy on the day of Isabella’s birth! Then the images of the fire at the Gisborne Manor emerged in his mind. Finally, he envisioned Marian and Robin Hood locked in a tight embrace, passionately kissing.

His mind drifted back to the old times – to the moment when he had seen Marian for the first time. Once Lady Ghislaine of Gisborne had been absent for several hours, and he had been worried about her. He had left the Gisborne Manor and had gone to Locksley, where he had inquired about his mother’s whereabouts. He had been told that she had gone to Locksley Manor with Sir Malcolm of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon, and the children – Isabella and Robin. Guy had been displeased with the revelation, for he hadn’t liked Malcolm and Robin even before the fire.

Determined to find his mother, Guy had headed to Locksley Manor. Bowing to the young raven-haired nobleman, Thornton had allowed him to enter the manor. As Guy had stepped into the parlor, he had been astonished to hear his mother’s voice ordering the servants to occupy the children while she had been busy, conversing with Malcolm. He had heard his mother’s laugh, but then Ghislaine’s voice had faded away, and Guy had heard the crack of the closing door.

All at once, Guy had heard a hubbub of cheerful voices, murmurs of excitement and happiness, and in moment three children had appeared from the living room, running across the parlor one after another; Robin had been chasing after two girls – Guy’s own sister Isabella and the dark-haired little girl whom he had never seen before. The children had been so absorbed in their game that they hadn’t noticed Guy in the parlor. As the laughing children had climbed the stairs, Thornton had rushed after them, scolding them for being so noisy. Guy had laughed at them, but he hadn’t liked that two young girls had been besotted by Robin.

Truth be told, Guy had never liked young Robin of Locksley because the boy had been Malcolm’s son and because of Robin’s mischievous ways; he had thought that a young nobleman, all the more the only heir of the Earl of Huntingdon, one of the premier earls of the realm, had to be a responsible and serious young man, not a troublemaker and a mischief-maker like Robin. He had believed that if Robin hadn’t been responsible in childhood, then the future Earl of Huntingdon would never be able to administer the earldom and all the other estates owned by his father.

Guy had found Ghislaine and Malcolm in the same study room: his mother and Malcolm had been sitting in the high-back armchairs near the hearth, smiling at each other and involved in the lively discussion about ancient Greek literature. At that time, Sir Roger of Gisborne had been already presumed dead, and Ghislaine had heavily relied on Malcolm’s advice and support in Locksley and Nottingham, where everyone had considered her - a Norman noblewoman - a foreigner. At that time, Guy hadn’t known that they had already been lovers.

On the same evening, out of mere curiosity, Guy had asked Ghislaine about the dark-haired lovely girl whom he had met at Locksley Manor. Ghislaine had informed him that the small girl had been Lady Marian of Knighton, the only daughter of Sir Edward of Knighton and Robin’s betrothed. At that time, Edward hadn’t been appointed the sheriff of Nottingham yet; he had lived a lonely life at Knighton Hall together with his small daughter; the aging lord had preferred a calm and uneventful life since the death of his beloved wife Kate in childbirth. Ghislaine had mentioned that Marian had often spent time in Locksley and had enjoyed playing games with Robin. Ghislaine had also told Guy that Sir Edward was Malcolm’s old and beloved friend and that he had often come to Locksley to visit his friend, despite his only desire to grieve the loss of his wife in proud solitude.

Later Guy had often watched Marian and Robin running wildly in Locksley and towards Sherwood; he had seen the two young children playing merry and noisy games with the children of the villagers. Several times, he had witnessed Robin practicing with a bow near Locksley Manor. Marian had stood near Robin, watching, in adoration, every arrow hitting its mark with deadly accuracy. Marian had been younger than Robin and Isabella, but she had seemed absolutely charmed by Robin. Guy had disliked Robin even more for engaging the small angel into his wild games. He had also envied Robin that girls and many other children had been charmed by Robin’s mischievous nature.

The fact that Robin and Marian had been betrothed since Marian’s birth had swiftly slipped from Guy’s mind, but the image of small and happy Marian had been engraved into Guy’s memory. Over years, Guy didn’t forget Marian, and the image of her lovely face framed with long dark hair and featuring the shining blue eyes, her slender body demoniacal in its vitality and yet instinct with gentleness.

Guy of Gisborne also remembered Sir Edward of Knighton when he had been younger. Guy had seen Edward several times at Locksley Manor, but he hadn’t remembered very well the somber man whom he had often seen sitting with Malcolm of Locksley near the fireplace, quietly talking about their deceased wives and their children. When Guy had met Edward in Locksley, he hadn’t paid much attention to the man before his mother had informed him about Edward’s personal tragedy.

Guy had been amazed that Edward had been inconsolable in his grief and had needed nobody but his daughter, who had been the only creature that had tied him to earth. Ghislaine had loved Roger, Guy had known that for sure, and they had been happy together before his father had gone to fight in the distant foreign lands. And yet, Ghislaine hadn’t been as desperate and grief-stricken as Edward.

When Guy had come back to Nottingham, Guy had expected to find Robin in one of his estates, most likely in Locksley where Malcolm of Locksley had preferred to live. Yet, he had discovered that Robin had gone to the Crusades and had left everyone behind, including his beautiful former fiancée – Lady Marian of Knighton. Having remembered Marian since childhood, Guy had craved to meet the lovely and beautiful girl.

Guy had met Marian at the Council of Nobles. He had been stunned by Marian’s beauty: she had been tall, with an elegant, well-curved figure. Blue-eyed, dark-haired, with soft white skin so delicate in texture and appearance, she had been almost ethereal in Guy’s eyes. He had been somewhat shocked to realize that the little pretty girl had grown into the incredible beauty. He had been gradually falling in love with her and finally had married her, causing Robin a great heartbreak; he had been pleased that he had taken everything from his mortal enemy.

Now Guy wasn’t sure that he had conquered Marian’s heart, at least not yet. Robin had told him when they had fought in the woods months ago: “You don’t know Marian, Gisborne.” The naughty, shameless outlaw had called him a fool and had said that Marian’s heart hadn’t belonged to either of them. Now Guy understood what his enemy had meant: he, Hood, had been Marian’s first lover, perhaps laughing at Guy. He felt himself like a complete idiot for not even suspecting that there was something more that jealousy that Hood had enciphered in his message. If he had thought harder, he wouldn’t have failed to find the connection between Hood’s half confession and Marian.

Before he married Marian, Guy had heard that the villagers had whispered about the great love Marian of Knighton had felt for Robin of Locksley. Everyone had been sure that she had waited for Robin’s return from the Crusade to marry him and become the Lady of Locksley and the Countess of Huntingdon. Listening to those rumors, he had learned that Marian had rejected many suitors after Robin’s departure, which had made him wonder whether the rumors had been true.

Guy gave a howl of pain like a wounded animal. He was not himself. He was confused. He was at the crossroads. Guy didn’t know how to behave towards Marian after his return from London.

Nevertheless, Marian was the only woman whom he thought he loved. He doubted that he would be able to forget her, at least not now and definitely not easily. And she was his wife. Yet, somehow Guy instinctively felt that his relationship with Marian could end tragically if something between them wouldn’t change soon. He didn’t know why he had that feeling, but he couldn’t get rid of the thought that something tragic would eventually ruin his relationship with Marian.

Guy felt his entire body trembling, and his hands were shaking so badly that he risked dropping the decanter from his arms. What should he do? Should he forgive Marian? Should he punish her? Should he kill Robin Hood for dishonoring her? Guy suppressed a scream of fear and rage, his eyes blazing with hatred for Hood.

Guy didn’t hear Allan enter the chamber after knocking twice.

“Guarding a decanter of wine?” Allan mocked.

Guy raised his eyes and grimaced. “What do you want, Allan?”

“I thought you need a company.”

“I need no one. Get out, Allan.”

Allan shook his head. “I don’t think you can be alone today, Guy.”

“You know nothing,” Guy snarled.

Guy continued drinking hard. Allan noticed, but said nothing. Allan only sighed. He had no right to lecture Guy - his master. Besides, it would have been counter-productive because Guy would simply fly into rage and would beat him.

“There is too much in your belly, Guy,” Allan pointed at Guy’s stomach.

Guy gulped more wine. “I am not drunk. Not enough.”

“Of course, you are sober, mate,” Allan replied with labored patience. He saw a gleam of drunkenness in the Guy’s steel blue eyes. “Maybe you should drink some water instead of wine or go outside to breathe some fresh air.” He laughed. “The cold sobers you up.”

Guy glanced at Allan. “What do you know about Seth? Where is he?”

“Robin sent Annie and the boy out of Nottingham. I think that Seth is alright.” Allan didn’t say that Marian, not Robin, had helped Annie and Seth. This confession would have proved Marian’s association with the outlaws, and he wasn’t going to betray her and make her life a living hell.

“Marian and Robin Hood…” Guy stumbled with words; the pain of Marian’s betrayal knifed through the core of him. “What happened between them?”

Allan’s heart began to pound with fear; he didn’t know what Guy had known and wasn’t going to tell him that Marian and Robin had been engaged before she married Guy. “Hey, mate, I know nothing. Robin likes Marian, and they were betrothed before he left for the Holy Land. I think nothing else.”

Guy scowled ferociously throughout Allan’s speech. Looking like a man who was probably going to die in a fatal battle, Guy threw a decanter of wine into the wall, and its contents spilled on the floor. Then he leaped to his feet, his body ruddy with anger, his hands trembling in growing weakness.

Guy stood towering over Allan's smaller frame. He grabbed Allan’s shoulders and forced his companion to stand up. “Hood and Marian were lovers! Do you know something about their affair?” He gnashed his teeth, his eyes locked with Allan’s eyes, his gaze wild and glassy.

Allan was shocked, but his face didn’t betray his true emotions. He raised his voice and forced his will to dominate that of the man in black leather. “I know nothing, Guy,” he murmured.

Guy lifted his hand to strike Allan, but then lowered it. "Enough lies. Tell me the truth.”

“Come on, Guy. Do you really think Robin would have told me something about his private life?”

The raven-haired knight scoffed. “Hood is a braggart.”

“Yes, he is,” Allan said firmly. “Robin always keeps his emotions to himself. He loves glory and is very mischievous by nature, but he is not the one who boasts with love conquests.”

Guy wore a look of mild amazement. “Keeps his emotions to himself? Are you kidding me, Allan?”

“No, I am not. Robin is outspoken and always needs the company of his friends. He craves to have the people’s love and blossoms in it,” Allan supplied. “Yet, he is very reserved and secretive.”

“You managed to understand him so well, didn’t you?” Guy smirked maliciously.

Allan shrugged. “No, I didn’t. Robin is not as simple as you may think of him.”

“He has always been a bloody hypocrite,” Guy growled.

“Mate, Robin is not a hypocrite. I mean that he guards his emotions, and you never know what is happening in his head. I often didn’t know what he would do in the next moment.”

“So you didn’t know about Marian and Hood, did you?”

Allan was scared, but his face didn’t betray his true emotions. “Guy, I don’t know a lot about Robin’s private life.” He shrugged. “I heard from Much that Robin had been with many women in the Holy Land.” He rubbed his cheek. “Well, Robin likes girls and they like him. I know nothing else.”

Guy released Allan and stepped backwards, his head inclined. “A wise answer, Allan, but I don’t believe you,” he said. “Now I feel that I am quite drunk, and I can get to bed.”

“A very good decision, mate! Give me your hand,” Allan said calmly, but he was scared.

After a moment’s hesitation, Guy extended his hand to Allan who took it and helped him walk to the bed. Allan didn’t undress Guy completely, putting off only his leather jacket and boots. As Guy lay back on the bed, Allan covered his master with a blanket, lingering his gaze at Guy’s face that was tired and hollow. Guy didn’t sleep well at least last night, Allan thought, understanding that the conflict with Marian was the reason for the man’s frustration.

Guy's words about the nature of the relationship between Marian and Robin shocked Allan; he did a good thing that he hadn’t told Guy about Marian's betrothal to Robin. Allan sighed heavily and headed to the door, hoping that drunken Guy would quickly succumb to the world of gray shadows.

§§§

After the mind-blowing unveiling of her secrets, Marian feared that their marriage had been destroyed. Her heart was tearing apart at the thought that he could have turned against her. At the same time, she was genuinely relieved that he had finally learned the truth. She didn’t have to lie to him about herself and Robin any longer. Yet, she feared that Guy would ask her about her feelings for Robin, for she couldn’t tell him the truth – that she still missed and dreamt of her former betrothed.

Marian was trying to analyze her feelings for Robin. She missed Robin: she missed his company, the mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes and his cheeky grin, and, to her shame, even a feeling of his strong arms wrapped around her waist. Yet, Robin’s disappearance somehow cooled off her feelings for him, and her longing was largely replaced by hot anger. If Robin had again chosen England and the king over her and the people, she would have been greatly disappointed in him, and she didn’t want to have such feelings for him.

She regretted that she had deeply hurt Robin by marrying Guy, but she didn’t want to believe that Robin had departed to the Holy Land due to the severe heartbreak caused by her betrayal. Robin Hood had to care for his people in Locksley in the first place, even after the end of their betrothal and romance. Marian wondered who Robin was – the king’s man or the people’s savior, for it seemed that Robin preferred the king over everyone and everything else. What was Robin thinking when he had left the villagers unprotected from the sheriff? Did he leave thinking that Marian would take care of the villagers as the Nightwatchman or as Lady of Locksley? Those thoughts infuriated Marian.

Guy had hurt Marian and her father in the past. He had lied to her about the king’s return, and he had also tried to kill the king. But Guy didn’t leave her and was at her side, in contrast to Robin. She saw a human side in Guy, and she was sure that she could help him to develop that side. He just needed to be free from Vaisey’s clutches. Guy was a sinner and a liar, but she was a liar too: she had manipulated his feelings to spy on him and help Robin, and her behavior was immoral, she admitted to herself. She couldn’t judge Guy when she herself had lived with double standards of honor for so long.

In her loneliness, Marian remembered Guy more often than Robin. She wanted Guy to return to Locksley from London. She wanted to him share a bed with her. She wanted him to take away her pain and heartache with his tenderness and passion. Under the cover of the night, she remembered Guy’s handsome face, his glossy black hair, and his steel blue eyes, full of passion for her. She wanted Guy to look at her with adoration. The last thing she wanted was to feel Guy’s hatred.

Marian had an insane thought that _she could simultaneously love two men – Robin and Guy, if it was possible_. She was torn between the present and the past, between Robin and Guy. She felt guilty of deceiving Guy; she missed his smile and his touch; she was hurt by their recent quarrel. Still, Guy was there for her, even despite the revelations, while Robin had left her. Robin was out of the picture, and it was her own choice, the right one on the back of Robin’s departure to the Holy Land. With his extreme, almost maniacal loyalty to the king, Robin took himself out of the picture and pushed her to choose Guy over him; his heartbreak was not only her fault.

To distract herself from her conflict with Guy, hopefully of a temporary nature, Marian threw herself into the daily management of the Locksley estate. Together with Thornton, Marian checked all the books with a list of expenditures for repair of houses and cultivation of lands. Guy told her that she could do everything in Locksley she wanted, but she also had no right to check tax payments.

Unlike Robin, Guy remained in Locksley, with the people and close to Marian. He was the sheriff’s man, but he had begun to change. He no longer was as cruel as he had been before. Guy collected taxes for the sheriff and dealt with indebted peasants, but he didn’t arrest them for delays of payments and didn’t chop off their hands. Marian encouraged him to give the peasants an easy punishment, not expecting that he would listen to her pleas, but he did listen to her. At times, Marian paid taxes from their own money to help the people, but Guy didn’t know about that.

She no longer could work as the Nightwatchman, but she could still do much good for the poor within the system. She had always preferred to work alone and in shadows, unlike Robin who did everything public, with unimaginable theatrics and constant show-off. Like a sensible pastor who had a long-term good of his people at heart, Marian was better at playing the long-term game, and being Lady of Locksley Manor let her achieve her goals.

Marian’s marriage to Guy wasn’t popular among the villagers, many of whom believed that she should have chosen Robin. Despite Gisborne’s generosity and kindness towards the people, the popularity of their former generous master was enormous and unfading, and Guy was always compared to Robin. The majority of the villagers still considered Guy a bloodthirsty monster and didn’t believe that he had changed, ascribing the recent changes of their treatment only to Marian’s actions. Whatever Guy and Marian would do, the people of Locksley would always love Robin more and consider him their true and only master. The people passionately wanted Robin to be reinstated as a nobleman.

After Robin’s departure to the Holy Land years ago, the Locksley estates had still prospered for about two years, before Gisborne was appointed temporary overlord of Robin’s lands. Then everything had gone wrong when Sir Edward of Knighton had been deposed and Vaisey had taken his former office. In the next years, the villagers had suffered and had starved. Few people had managed to escape Guy’s harsh punishments without scars and injuries of some sort; many people didn’t have hands but had open sores and mutilated bodies.

Marian didn’t forget what Guy had told her about Robin. She wondered how Robin could have destroyed Guy’s life if they had never known each other before. Guy had implied that he had known Robin in childhood. Determined to find out the truth, Marian began questioning the villagers in Locksley, but they shook their heads and replied that they knew nothing. Apparently, something had happened between Guy and Robin years ago, but nobody in Locksley wanted to remember about that.

She asked Thornton about Guy and Robin’s past, but he muttered under his breath that he knew nothing. Marian didn’t fail to notice how ghostly pale Thornton became at her question, and she surmised that the man knew something he didn’t want to tell her. If Thornton was so unwilling to speak, there were others who would. Almost everyone adored Robin but there were some people who didn’t like him, and they could be more willing to tell her the truth, Marian mused.

Marian shivered in the cool, damp air and pulled her winter mantle more tightly about her body to ward off the chill. Although it had snowed last night, the ground underfoot was slippery and wet, and Marian walked slowly and carefully, measuring every step. She decided to talk to Rebecca of Locksley. The woman didn’t like Robin Hood and even disliked him in childhood. Rebecca had lived in Locksley for many years and wasn’t very young at the time when Robin had been a child, so she should remember the events of old days, Marian thought.

Marian found Rebecca on the front steps of her cottage. “Good afternoon,” she began.

Rebecca bowed in respect. “Lady Marian, what a surprise to see you here!”

“I hope I am not intruding,” Marian said politely.

“You can never disturb me, Lady Marian! It is an honor to talk to you and Sir Guy.”

“I am glad to hear this.”

“How can I serve you today, my lady?”

“I want to talk to you,” Marian said, sighing deeply.

“Should we go to the manor?”

Marian shrugged indifferently. “We may go there, but it will be better if we don’t.” She didn’t want the servants to overhear her conversation. “It is very cold tonight. We cannot talk here.”

“The cold wind froze the whole village.”

“Rebecca, let’s go to your cottage.”

Rebecca looked at her oddly. “As you wish, my lady. Kate is not at home and she won’t disturb us.”

Marian was relieved that Kate hadn’t been there, for she didn’t like the blonde girl, considering her annoying, foolish and infuriating. “Let’s go.”

Rebecca opened the door, letting Marian go ahead. Marian went forward nervously into the small, gloomy corridor and then entered the little room. There was the musty smell of building that was never aired, but Marian didn’t care. Rebecca invited Marian to seat in a chair near the hearth, and then she sank onto a wooden bench in the corner.

“I have a question to you,” Marian replied flatly. “But you must promise me that you will never tell anyone about our conversation, of course, if you can help me.”

Baffled, Rebecca slightly inclined her head. “Not a word will be spoken from this mouth.”

Marian gave her a hard, long glare. “Swear on your life.”

Rebecca kissed her fingers and crossed herself. “I swear on the eternal damnation of my soul.”

“Very well.” Marian sighed, gathering her composure before asking the question that troubled her for so long. “Did Guy and Robin Hood know each other in childhood?”

Rebecca’s features paled. Her eyes were incredulous, her brows furrowing, her mouth lengthening into a thin line. “If I may ask, why do you need to talk about that?”

“It is not your business,” Marian retorted angrily. “Tell me everything, or I will leave.”

“If you wish, I will tell you what I remember,” Rebecca conceded.

“Do me a favor, please.”

“Master Guy and Robin Hood have known each other for many years, since childhood,” Rebecca informed; her lips quirked in a nasty smile. “Master Guy was a decent and well-behaved young lad, quiet and reserved. There were no noble children of Sir Guy’s age, and he was so lonely. Unlike Master Guy, Hood was an outspoken, arrogant, and spoiled brat, Sir Malcolm of Locksley’s golden child.”

“Guy was born here?”

“Master Guy was born in Gisborne that used to be a small village near Locksley, but later it became a part of the Locksley estates. His parents were Sir Roger of Gisborne and Lady Ghislaine of Gisborne. Master Guy and Robin Hood lived here for many years, but they were not very close.”

Marian raised a brow. “A part of the Locksley estates?”

“It is a long story, Lady Marian. Sir Roger of Gisborne fought in the Holy Land for years. He was absent for so long that everyone believed he had been killed there. Then he appeared in Locksley, unexpectedly. Unfortunately, soon everyone learned that he had contracted leprosy while he was away, and he was banished from the village and officially declared dead.”

“And what happened next?”

Rebecca smiled, her heart beating faster as she prepared to open the truth to Marian: she wanted to use her chance and tell what she thought of Robin Hood. “After his banishment, Sir Roger once came back to Locksley, but Hood noticed him and notified the whole village about that. Then Sir Malcolm ran to Gisborne Manor to remove Sir Roger from there.” She crossed herself. “Sir Guy accidentally started the fire that consumed his parents and Sir Malcolm. Then the local bailiff banished Sir Guy and Lady Isabella from Locksley after he had accused your husband of murdering his parents and Sir Malcolm. Then the Gisborne lands were included into the Locksley estates.”

Marian attentively listened to Rebecca’s tale. Cold seeped into her bones and her lips grew numb as Rebecca described the details of Guy’s unhappy childhood and the official story of Guy’s banishment from Nottinghamshire. Every vestige of color drained from Marian’s face. She knew that Robin’s father had died in the fire, but she had never known how exactly it had happened. Never, even in her wildest dreams, had she imagined that Guy had killed Robin’s father and his own parents.

“ _Sir Guy and Lady Isabella were thrown out of the village_ ,” the woman finished her tale.

At first, a shocked Marian just stared at Rebecca as if she couldn’t understand the words. Morose thoughts were crowding her head, skittering through her brain one after another, and she felt as if she were living through a terrible nightmare. Rebecca’s voice asking her whether she was alright interrupted her musings and made her recollect her attention. “Good God!” she cried out, breaking the tense silence. Her voice was shocked, breathless. “This is horrible! I had no idea that it happened!”

“That did really happen, my lady.”

”What is Isabella?” Marian asked.

Rebecca was puzzled that Guy hadn’t told his wife about his sister. “Lady Isabella is Sir Guy’s younger sister.” She smiled. “She was a clever and contemplative girl, and her mind was early and richly developed in the pure atmosphere of piety at Gisborne Manor. But she never enjoyed the luxury of being loved by the people just because her mother was a Norman woman and wasn’t accepted in Nottingham. She became a noisy and flighty girl only when she was in Hood’s company.” She shrugged. “I wonder what happened to the poor lady. Perhaps, she starved to death or died of sickness.”

Marian drew in a shaky breath. “So the parents of Guy and Robin died on the same day?” she asked again, still finding it hard to believe the other woman’s words.

Marian’s voice was so hoarse that Rebecca glanced at her with surprise and alarm. “Yes, Lady Marian. Even their bodies were not found among the remnants of the destroyed Gisborne Manor.”

“And Robin became the Lord of Locksley and the Earl of Huntingdon,” Marian said.

“Hood said nothing and allowed the people to banish Master Guy and Lady Isabella, my lady. He took what was offered to him in good faith by the people, forgetting about the young man and girl who were forced to flee without a coin in their pockets.”

Marian’s face was crossed by a momentary frown. “What?”

“Robin of Locksley didn’t take Sir Guy and his sister to Locksley,” Rebecca summed up. “He didn’t want to take care of them.”

Marian shook her head. “No! No! This is impossible! I don’t believe you.”

“It is true, my lady. This is what I remember.”

Blinking hard, Marian tossed her head as if to shake away unwelcome thoughts. “I think you don’t know everything,” she whispered.

“Yes, perhaps, but…”

“Say what you want, Rebecca.”

“But I don’t like Robin Hood. He plays a hero but he is such a vain show-off,” Rebecca said trenchantly. “I loathed Hood on the day he appeared in Locksley, proudly stood in front of Sir Guy, and chased him away from the estate, with a smug grin on his face. It would have been better if he had never come back from the Holy Land and Sir Guy had remained out lord.”

Unable to bear the sight of Rebecca’s arrogance and disdain towards Robin, Marian let out a growl of rage. “I won’t allow you to speak about Robin in this manner in my presence,” she snapped irritably, her voice gruffly. “You are impertinent and tactless. Have you forgotten that Robin was your landlord? Do I have to remind you that it is your responsibility to respect your lord?”

“He is not my lord,” the potter protested.

“One day Robin may be pardoned and restored as the Lord of Locksley, and you have the duty to obey and respect him as his serf,” Marian said, her tone sodden with contempt for the wretched creature sitting beside her. “Don’t apologize, for it won’t be sincere.”

“I am sorry, Lady Marian.”

“I must go,” Marian said from tremulous lips, struggling with herself to keep her voice steady.

“Have a good evening.” Rebecca gritted her teeth and looked away.

The dark-haired lady sprang to her feet. “Rebecca, never say a word about our conversation,” she said in a menacing voice. “Never ever!”

Marian stormed out of the cottage and slammed the massive front door behind her, leaving Rebecca alone. The older woman was scared and confused; she repented that she had been so frank.  Better to try and put Marian’s visit out of her mind, Rebecca found the solution.

Marian returned to Locksley Manor and shut herself in the study. She didn’t wish to talk to anyone. She didn’t want to see anyone. She had no reason to doubt Rebecca’s words, but now she wasn’t sure that she would have wanted to know the truth if she had had a chance to reverse the track of time back. She needed time to think of the old conflict between Robin and Guy which horrified her so much. Now she especially wanted the old days to come back, so Guy and Robin could have been friends since childhood and wouldn’t have hated each other so fiercely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you liked this chapter and my portrayal of Prince John, which I tried to make similar to his portrayal on the show. My Prince John is funny and theatrical, power hungry and cruel, cunning and hypocritical. John’s portrayal is also very consistent with real history. Maybe you figured out the identity of the prince’s unknown mistress who will play a very important role in this story/novel.
> 
> Guy was humiliated by the sheriff, and he was barely able to tolerate such despicable treatment – but he does that to earn power. I hope that you like the portrayal of Guy/Vaisey relationship in this story/novel, and I personally think that I achieved a good resemblance between what the show’s writers wanted is to think of Guy's attitude towards Vaisey and Vaisey's towards Guy. The tale of how Guy met Vaisey in Normandy would be given in chapter 11, and it will be quite interesting.
> 
> In this chapter, there was some information given about the Queen mother's illegitimate son, her golden boy. Did you manage to guess who the man is? He plays quite an important role in this story.
> 
> How do you like my portrayal of the sheriff? The sheriff is one of my favorite characters on the show, and I am immensely enjoying writing about him and about his relationship with Guy.
> 
> The sophisticated conspiracies against King Richard are unfolding, and Robin will have to investigate them. As you see, Prince John is talking about the two regicide attempts on King Richard's life: the first being organized by the Hashashin and the other by Sheriff Vaisey if the first one is unsuccessful. Robin has loads of work to do to save his king. The Black Knights Club expands its activities and now includes the nobles of Normandy, Brittany, and Aquitaine who signed the so-called Pact of Caen.
> 
> Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, is a real historical personality, but we don't know for sure whether he had ever wished to betray King Richard. De Sablé's treason is a fictional event. The information about the Hashashin given in this chapter is historically correct.
> 
> Chapters 10 and 11 are about Guy and Robin's past when you will have a deep insight into the dark mysteries of the past. There are many secrets that were buried many years ago, and these mysteries resulted in the murderous hatred between Robin and Guy, as well as Guy’s pre-destined and unavoidable banishment and exile in Normandy. Everything is very complicated.


	10. Mysteries of the Past

**Chapter 10**

**Mysteries of the Past**

The bleak rays of the winter sun illuminated the whimsical towers of the ancient royal palace in Poitiers, built in the Merovingian times; it was Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine’s favorite royal palace. Situated on the banks of the River Clain, the palace was surrounded by vast snow-covered gardens dressed in a cloak of dazzling white ermine.

A white curtain of snow blanketed the river and obscured the view of the other side. In warm months, the garden had another view: it had paths bordered with acanthus and shaded by willow, fig, cypress, and pear trees; in the flower beds grew roses, lilies, and poppies. The imposing Maubergeonne Tower, where the ducal apartments were located, dominated the view of the majestic palace.

In a freezing dawn, the hooded man rode through the western, remote terrace of the garden. The cold wind surged like an ocean, roaring through the naked trees, and the man shivered in his brown squirrel-lined cloak. Although he was dressed in warm clothes, he wasn’t unconcerned about the bad weather as the cold wind seemed to renew its strength and snowflakes fluttered around him.

He made his way towards the stables and dismounted; he flipped a coin to one of the regular horse boys. He asked for Sir William de Longchamp who was supposed to be waiting for him. In a minute, the middle-aged man with grizzled hair appeared in front of the hooded man.

Sir Malcolm of Locksley and Sir William de Longchamp looked at each other, both displeased with the meeting. Even in the better days of his life, when he hadn’t needed to hide, Malcolm had despised de Longchamp for his low birth and his advancement to royal favor only thanks to his old friendship with Richard; de Longchamp had served as Chancellor of the Duchy of Aquitaine when Richard was Duke of Aquitaine. Besides, de Longchamp was the only man who knew the Locksley secret as he was exceptionally close to Queen Eleanor and Richard Plantagenet.

William de Longchamp had been Lord Chancellor, Chief Justiciar, and Bishop of Ely in England. De Longchamp had the highest royal favor and had been appointed to govern England during Richard’s absence. However, his authority had been challenged by Prince John, who had succeeded in driving him from power and eventually from England. De Longchamp had escaped in various disguises, using a monk's disguise and women's clothes. Later, he had settled down at Queen Eleanor’s court and also from time to time traveled to his estates in Normandy.

William de Longchamp bowed slightly. “Sir Malcolm,” he greeted coldly.

“Sir William,” Malcolm said as he bent his head down a bow. “I trust you received my message.”

“We did, milord. The queen will come to you in fifteen minutes,” de Longchamp announced.

“Do we go now?” the hooded man asked, shivering in the wind. “It is rather cold.”

De Longchamp gave him a withering look. “You should be more accurate next time. Thank the queen for allowing you to come here, given all the risks your secret visit can bring to us.”

“We are careful. Nobody will ever learn anything.”

“I pray it will never come to that.”

De Longchamp led Malcolm to the castle through the same deserted part of the house. They entered the castle from the backdoor, passed through a dark corridor, and ascended a spiral staircase. Upstairs they were passed through another corridor and stepped into the stunningly beautiful great hall, known as La Salle des Pas Perdus, the “hall of lost footsteps” as a footfall was silenced by its vastness. A dull light filtered through the bright-colored glasses of the windows with carved arches. It was almost dark as silver candelabra hung from the ceiling were not lit. Despite the winter time, the hall was adorned with garlands of flowers on the walls and statues of Orpheus and Arion smiting their lyres. The walls were hung with delicate tapestries and ornaments of gold, silver, and precious stones, and all the attributes of a luxurious royal court, with everything that pertained to queenly splendor.

The huge hall was empty and dark in those early morning hours. Malcolm walked slowly, following exactly in his companion’s footsteps. De Longchamp was quiet, and Malcolm felt nostalgia gripping his heart. He could remember himself standing in a crowd of the smiling and happy courtiers, listening to music of the finest troubadours in Christendom. He remembered the days when he had danced with young ladies and even with Eleanor of Aquitaine herself. He especially liked the gardens; visions of fountains, lush green grass, and brilliantly colored flowers flickered in his mind, reminding him of his early youth, when he had been just a guest at the palace, long before his life had been destroyed.

They went out of the hall and climbed another staircase, heading to the Maubergeonne Tower. They passed through a corridor and ascended a sweeping staircase that ended in a spacious entry hall. On the upper floors of the tower, there were several luxurious bedrooms, all of them with large walk-in closets, sitting rooms, and private baths. They walked through another corridor and ascended a spiral, almost dangerous staircase, going to the highest floor of the tower with only several guest rooms.

Deplorable darkness and absolute stillness met them as soon as they got to the upper floor of the Maubergeonne Tower; clearly, this part of the tower wasn’t often visited by guests. Malcolm found it difficult to move in the darkness, but de Longchamp gave him his hand, and they made their way to the end of the corridor with ease. They stopped, and de Longchamp unlocked the door and invited Malcolm to go inside, but he himself didn’t enter and quickly left even without bowing to the guest.

Malcolm was alone, familiarizing himself with the surroundings. He was inside a long, narrow chamber, with a wide fireplace at one end. The room was draped with blue silken hangings and furnished with a double bed embellished with valuable ornaments, several chairs, and one armchair, all of them covered with blue velvet. Despite the braziers and the fire in the hearth, the chamber was still cold. A night candle was burning on its pricket. Secret meetings, visits incognito, and clandestine rendezvous were typical at any royal court, and his audience with Queen Eleanor was only one of those secret meetings that would never be known to the courtiers and even the spies.

Malcolm heard the noise of the opening door and turned around. His head was bowed, and, at first, he saw cloth-of-gold shimmering on ivory and crimson of a luxurious brocade gown, twinkling diamond and rubies jewels on a slender neck, and then a proud noble face of Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, Queen Mother, who had once been the exceptionally beautiful woman in Christendom. Her hair was silver, no longer long, glossy, auburn locks, arranged in an up-do, half secured by a jeweled headdress.

Malcolm greedily drank in Eleanor’s charms and magnificence. From the cold, regal-bright gleam of her blue eyes to the enticing thrust of her bosom to the proud, arrogant posture she still was a regal, captivating and beautiful woman, even despite her old age. He stared impotently at the Queen Mother, hiding the turbulent emotions that churned in his chest; his excitement was revealed on his face at that moment, and he was pleased that his face was covered by a hood. He was astounded that she still had a great power over him, like she had over many men, and he ruthlessly tamped down the powerful emotions their meeting arose in him.

The troubadour Bernard de Ventadour called Eleanor _“gracious, lovely, the embodiment of charm,”_ stressing the beauty of her _“lovely eyes and noble countenance”_ and declaring that she was _“one meet to crown the state of any king._ ” The young Eleanor displayed inherent flirtatiousness, sharp wit, and diabolical, overpowering charm; the old Eleanor looked more like an exceedingly shrewd and clever woman, exclusively noble and regal in her appearance, her posture, and her manners.

Queen Eleanor’s blue eyes focused on Malcolm, and she gave him an arrogant look of superiority. They stared at each other wordlessly for a long moment. He didn’t remove his hood, however, as his face was too scarred in the fire.

“So you finally came,” Queen Eleanor said coldly.

Malcolm bowed. “As you see, Your Grace.”

The queen settled herself in a whimsically carved, velvet-cushioned armchair. “Would you like to take a seat there?” She raised her hand and pointed at a high-back velvet-covered chair.

“Thank you.” He bowed again and sat down.

“How can I help you?” she asked, in the same chilly and formal tone.

“Robin,” Malcolm said quietly. He stopped as he felt emotion tickling his throat. He glanced away to compose himself; then he turned his gaze to Eleanor. “I was in Nottingham and learned that he had been outlawed after his return from the Crusade. He is Robin Hood now.”

“I know. I learned some time ago that Robin Hood is the same man as Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and Hero of Acre,” she said calmly. “Around seven months ago,” she added for clarity.

“Robin has disappeared from Nottingham recently. People say that he is dead.”

“Robin is alive,” she informed.

Malcolm let out a sigh of relief. “Where is he?”

“He is with Richard, in the Holy Land.”

“Thanks to God and King Richard!” He sounded overjoyed, feeling his heart beat faster.

“I asked Richard to recall Robin back to the Holy Land. Richard sent to England his messenger, but Robin ignored the first request. As he felt committed to the mission of helping the people of Nottingham, Robin left England only at the second request,” the queen said. “Robin dragged himself into many conspiracies against Richard. He could have been easily killed in England.”

“Will Robin be alright in the Holy Land?” Malcolm looked doubtful. “There is a bloody war there.”

“While Robin protects his king, Richard takes care of him, too. Robin is watched by Richard’s spies in the Guard,” Eleanor said, a light trace of a smile on her lips.

“He cannot die there?”

“Robin has fewer chances to be killed in the Holy Land than in England, given all the dangers he exposed himself to.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I owe you my thanks for Robin’s safety.” He again bowed to her.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t have done for Robin.”

“He had turned an outlaw, and I have to say that I wasn’t surprised when I saw Sheriff Vaisey and what he did to the people of Nottinghamshire.”

She smiled. “I wasn’t astonished at all. Robin is full of fire and rebellious blood that often boils and gets him into a mess. He has been courting danger since childhood.”

The hooded man chuckled. “I know after whom he took this blood.”

She snorted. “Fortunately, he didn’t inherit your stupidity.”

“You are cruel.”

“No, I am fair,” she countered. “You know nothing about your own son.”

“Unfair. He lived with me for several years before the fire, before I had to go into hiding.”

“It grieves me that you have to hide instead of leading a normal life in Locksley, as a lord and a nobleman,” Eleanor declared, her expression softening. “But it was you who brought yourself down.”

“I know. It is partly my fault, but not entirely mine.” His voice had a note of guilt.

“I recognize your embarrassment, Malcolm. It is a rare thing for a scoundrel like you.”

“You once were charmed by this scoundrel.”

Eleanor laughed. “I never loved you. Never.” She gave him a haughty smile. “I was just a lonely woman neglected by her royal husband, a woman who wanted some warmth. You were one of the most handsome courtiers, and you were so persistent in wooing me, hoping that one day you would have your reward. Although courtly love was often seen merely as an excuse for adultery in England, I practiced it at Henry’s court; you and I were whirling in the breathtaking environment of courtly love and lost our minds for a couple of times; just for a couple of times.”

Malcolm’s throat was dry and his palms sweating. He wiped them on his tunic. “I didn’t love you either, but I cannot deny that I was fascinated with you.”

She gave a knowing grin. “At that time, Malcolm, I didn’t know that you were unworthy of true love and, of course, unworthy of my attention.”

“You knew that I was married,” he asserted indignantly. “You were no better than me.”

The queen gave him a murderous glare. “I didn’t know that your wife, Lady Elizabeth of Locksley, was carrying your child while you indulged yourself into pleasantries at court.” She drew a deep breath. “And I didn’t know that you wished so much, with all your heart, to have a queen-lover. It was hardly an opportunity you could turn down when you understood that I heartily reciprocated your wishes. It should have flattered your ego when it finally happened, even a few times.”

King Henry, Eleanor’s husband, had behaved similarly. While Eleanor had carried another child, the King of England had changed mistresses one after another. Eleanor had known that Henry had been an indefatigable lover; his need to carnally know women had been as usual as his need to drink and sleep. At first, Eleanor had been jealous, but later she had learned to tolerate Henry’s infidelities dispassionately. Even despite Henry’s philandering behavior and an increasing frequent ignorance of his wife in public, Henry had still attracted Eleanor physically, more than any other man she had ever known, not even Raymond of Toulouse; her love affair with him had been so notorious and so infamous that even songs had been composed about it. From time to time, she had also taken lovers, usually occasional, to take bittersweet revenge on King Henry, even if her husband had never learned about her infidelities; Malcolm had been only one of such secret lovers.

Under his hood, Malcolm frowned. “My wife, Elizabeth, died in childbirth, together with my daughter Adele. If I knew that it would happen, I would have spent much more time with her.” He sighed deeply. “I loved my wife, and I feel guilty of abandoning her to be with you.”

“You would have never returned from court to Nottingham only to be with your wife who was heavy with child. You wanted the splendor of court.”

Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut to prevent tears from trickling down his face. He always felt guilty that he had abandoned his wife in Nottingham, all the more in a delicate condition, and that he had preferred to stay at court, hoping to earn King Henry’s favor. Instead, however, he had managed to find Queen Eleanor’s favor – in courtly love games and then several times in her bed, at first at her initiative and then at his own.

Malcolm had always been fascinated with Eleanor of Aquitaine’s life even before he had met her at court in Poitiers several years before their secret love affair started.

Eleanor of Aquitaine was a woman of enormous intelligence and titanic energy who led an unparalleled life. Eleanor joined the Second Crusade, participated in the struggle between the church and the state, had married to the two powerful kings, embraced songs of the troubadours, and created _the magnificent court of love_ , advancing the ideas of courtly love and troubadours. She participated in many important events and movements of her time, and her opinion influenced many events of the time. She was an indefatigable traveler and was familiar with every great city: London, Paris, Rome, Constantinople, and Jerusalem. She had many notorious love affairs, and she _was a queen of love and beauty._ She was a one-of-a-kind woman in the world. Everything about Eleanor of Aquitaine fascinated, tempted, enchanted, and hypnotized.

At first, Malcolm hadn’t wanted to become Queen Eleanor’s lover. He had loved his wife, Lady Elizabeth of Locksley; he had been faithful to her at the beginning of their short marriage. But the opportunity to be in the Queen of England’s bed had been too tempting, and Eleanor had been too beautiful and too seductive, like Aphrodite, the immortal goddess of beauty and love. He had never loved Eleanor of Aquitaine, despite all her beauty and charm, but he had been captivated by her and fascinated with the aureole of regalness and the air of notoriousness about her. She had wanted him, and she had been supreme, a goddess to be approached with reverence, and men had been at her feet and in her property, everyone, except for King Henry. And finally Malcolm had given in to his passions and desires: he had tasted sins of flesh and Eleanor’s sweetness. His love affair with the queen had happened only by chance, but it had had _the consequence_ that nobody of them had wished to have at that time.

Later, when Queen Eleanor had learned that Malcolm’s wife had been pregnant while he had entertained at the royal court, she had ordered him to return to Locksley. Malcolm had traveled to Nottingham, back to his wife. Meanwhile, Queen Eleanor had left court too: she had gone into temporary hiding at Kirklees Abbey, feigning her illness and doing everything to ensure that nobody could have learned their secret. King Henry had been occupied with his numerous mistresses, and he had been more than happy to get rid of his jealous wife for some time.

“No doubt that my actions have already offended the Almighty. You don’t need to do more, Your Grace.”

Queen Eleanor smiled with a genuine, large smile. “Come on, Malcolm! Don’t be offended! Do you attach importance to the words of an old woman spoken in anger?” she said in a light tone.

Malcolm laughed. “You have always been witty.”

“Not in particular,” she contradicted. “I usually showed my erudition. Our conversation could be witty but it was usually straight to the point, like we are talking now.”

“Your Grace, your straightforwardness doesn’t surprise me.”

Eleanor smiled at her former lover. “At times, I think that it would have been better if I gave Robin into the family of my Poitevin vassals. In that case, Richard could meet Robin more often, for I myself couldn’t take care of him until I was released from my prison after Henry’s death.”

“When did you meet Robin for the first time?”

She smiled faintly. “At Richard’s coronation in London,” she replied. “After the ceremony, Richard showed Robin to me in the crowd of courtiers. Then I met Robin at the short audience with Richard, in several days after the coronation.”

“I thought that he had taken the Cross here, in Poitiers.”

The Queen Mother smiled wryly. “It is true. I never really knew Robin very well until I met him here, in Poitiers, at my court. He came from London as a member of the king’s private guard, spent some time at court, took the Cross, and then departed with Richard to Acre.”

“At least you saw him in the last years much more than I did.”

Her proud face changed into wistfulness. “Richard invited Robin to several private dinners when they were here. I was there and talked to Robin, and he didn’t disappoint me.” She smiled sadly. “And I regretted so much that I didn’t have a chance to raise my own son or at least to see him from time to time. He is a remarkable boy.” A sigh escaped her lips. “He is such a good boy.”

“It was the last time when you saw Robin?”

She shook her head. “No. I met Robin around two years ago. He spent three weeks at my court.”

“How did he get here?”

The queen sighed. “Robin was almost mortally wounded in Acre when he heroically saved Richard and then was sent home. He came to court on his way back to England.”

Malcolm smiled. “Robin saved King Richard’s life?

“Robin was wounded, but he still managed to save Richard’s life. He barely survived and had a hard, long recovery,” Eleanor stated a glint of mingled sadness and enjoyment in her eyes. “Richard sent to me a long letter, in which he bestowed a chorus of highest praises on Robin and described how heroically Robin acted on the night of the Saracen raid.”

“How delightful it is that Robin saved his king!”

“Richard has always held Robin in the highest regard and spoken about him very well. Actually, Robin saved his life in the Holy Land many times,” Eleanor said proudly, her blue eyes twinkling. “So when Robin arrived at court, bringing several letters from Richard, I persuaded him to spend some time here to recover his health with the help of my best doctors.”

“Did he feel unwell when he arrived here?”

Eleanor gave a nod. “Yes, he did. Robin didn’t plan to stay in Poitiers for more than a day, but he had to postpone his departure to England. He was still rather weak from the fever that had almost taken his life. He felt rather unwell on the ship and his condition worsened as they took an inland route through Languedoc and then Aquitaine. Love affairs he had in the places he stayed on the way from Acre to Poitiers also weakened him.”

“Was the wound without any serious consequences?”

“Yes, he completely recovered.”

“Excellent.”

For a while, they talked about the time of Robin spent at Queen Eleanor’s court on the way back to England. Eleanor mentioned Robin’s interest in philosophy, literature, and art of troubadours. She also mentioned Robin’s short-term love affairs with two of her ladies-in-waiting.

§§§

Malcolm sighed. As they spoke about the Crusade, another question popped into his mind. “When I arrived in Locksley after a long absence, I was amazed to learn that Robin had gone to the Holy Land with King Richard,” he said quietly. “I was sure that he had spent the last seven years in Locksley and in Huntingdon, taking care of his lands and people, not fighting in Acre.”

The queen studied Malcolm critically. “What exactly do you want to say, Malcolm?”

"Your Grace, I am amazed that you allowed Robin to go to war. It is too dangerous. He could have been killed in the Holy Land."

"Allowed Robin?" Eleanor laughed outright. "Robin was eighteen, almost nineteen, when he took the Cross. He was a grown-up man and one of the premier earls of the realm." She laughed again. "Do you really believe that I could have prohibited him from going to war? On what grounds could I do that?"

“You could have asked King Richard not to take Robin on the Crusade,” Malcolm continued, lowering his already hushed voice still further. “He should have stayed in England.”

“Robin himself told Richard that he decided to fight in the Holy Land because he was a loyal subject and wanted to do his duty to his king and his country. He is a knight, and he wished to prove himself as a man worthy of his title and the respect of his king and people.”

“And, of course, he wanted glory,” he added.

She gave him a wan smile. “Certainly. And who doesn’t want glory on the battlefield when he is young and full of energy and when his king is a great warrior, all the more favoring him even before the Crusade? It is normal for a young knight to fight for his country and want glory, especially for a vain and arrogant man like Robin. Grown-up Robin is full of himself, proud, vain, and boastful, but he was much more arrogant and spoiled when he was younger, at nineteen.”

“I understand that, but the king could have persuaded Robin not to go to war.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Malcolm. Do you think Richard and I have some magic power over Robin?”

“You should have tried!”

“Believe me, we tried very hard,” she parried calmly, though she was irritated with his insistence and annoyance, which were on the verge of acceptability. “Actually, Richard didn’t want to take Robin on the Crusade, suspecting that I wouldn’t approve of that and wishing to protect a hot-headed lad. Richard didn’t permit Robin to go and said that he wouldn’t take him into his retinue because he needed some of his loyal nobles to stay in his kingdom during his absence.”

“Then why did he leave for the Crusade if the king told him that?”

The queen looked at him strangely. “Robin is more like me than like you, in many things: he always does what he thinks is right and he is capable of rebelling against anyone, even against his king’s decision. It was quite predictable what he would do next in spite of his liege’s words.”

“You mean that Robin would have gone anyway?”

“Exactly. Robin is a man of duty, and he would have despised himself and considered himself a coward if he had stayed in England. He would have joined the Crusade by any means.”

“Ah, I see. Robin is Robin.”

“So, Malcolm, we decided that Richard would allow him to go to avoid Robin sneaking into the army somewhere on the way to Acre and endangering his life as in that case Richard couldn’t have taken care of him and there would have been a time when Robin would have been unprotected. For that reason, Richard took Robin in the private guard and always kept him close; he also asked his entrusted men – his spies – in the Guard to watch Robin and protect him if necessary.”

“But despite everything Robin was so grievously wounded!” Malcolm exclaimed hotly.

The queen bowed her head, overcome by a sudden bitter disappointment she had no power to hide. “Anything can happen while war is waging. Richard did everything possible to protect Robin. Robin proved himself as one of the best warriors and the best military strategist among Richard’s generals; his extravagant, clever and risky plans and strategies were on the brink of insolence and madness, but they were successful and saved many lives of his men and comrades. Yet, Robin could have had more scars than he actually has and could have already been dead if the king’s spies hadn’t protected him from his foolhardiness and recklessness.”

“But the Saracen attack–”

She interrupted him. “Richard wrote to me that on the night of the Saracen raid there was only half of the night guard on their posts. They still don’t understand how and why it happened. Robin was almost alone against the band of the assassins, while other guards in the camp were sleeping.” She paused for an instant. “Richard let Robin return to England to protect him out of love for him as he didn’t want Robin to die in the Holy Land. Richard considered that Robin had already earned much glory, had proved himself as a high-class warrior, and had lived through enough war horrors. Richard definitely needed Robin’s exceptional military skills, but he was selfless and sent his captain home on the ground of the necessity to recover his health. We didn’t know that Robin would rebel against John in England.”

“Thank you for your explanation,” Malcolm said softly.

“Are you still cross with us?” she demanded in an arctic voice.

He shook his head, dismayed. “No.”

Queen Eleanor glanced at the man who had once been her occasional lover. She felt only loathing and pity for him. She had always blamed him for being a bad father and leaving Robin alone, with all the problems that had followed his supposed death. Yet, now as she looked at him she felt pity, for he looked so old, his face scarred and wrinkled. She wanted to give him words of wisdom and restore everything to its rightful place, but she couldn’t. The only thing that linked her life to his was the future of their son, Robin’s future, which they had to secure and make safe.

A bemused Eleanor pursed her lips. “Malcolm, I have to say that I am astounded.”

“Why?”

“It took a long time for you to grow worried about Robin,” she said tartly. “You disappeared more than seven years ago. Before you at least had been interested in his life and wellbeing; you looked after Robin from your hiding, quite rarely but you still did that.”

“Your Grace, you are not right, I am sorry to say,” Malcolm snapped, offended. “I have always been interested in Robin’s fate. I was often watching Robin, although I couldn’t come back alive.”

“Where were you in the past years?” Her interest sharpened.

“I spent all this time in Outremer and then in Byzantine Empire, in Constantinople.”

She arched a sardonic eyebrow. “I won’t ask what you did there. I am afraid I will be shocked.”

“I was trying to find my youngest son, Archer. He left an orphanage when he was twelve and embarked on a risky adventure; I was notified that he had gone to the East,” Malcolm replied, watching the candlelight play over the queen’s pale skin; she still was beautiful and captivating. “Unfortunately, my ship was wrecked on the way there, and I was captured by the infidels. I spent much time in captivity as a slave and a prisoner near the fortress of Damascus and then somewhere near Jerusalem. Fortunately, I managed to run away, with great difficulty; I went directly to Constantinople, where I also had many misfortunes.”

Eleanor eyed him, smiling coldly. “You will never stop to _impress_ me,” she said sardonically.

“Impress you?” He was confused; she loathed him, and he knew that.

“You once brought yourself down due to your own stupidity and recklessness,” Eleanor explained in the same distant tone. “That’s why I am not astonished that you were taken captive.”

“What?” Malcolm’s face darkened by the moment under the hood. “Your Grace, you are again unfair to me. Everyone can be taken captive.”

She frowned slightly, but then her brow smoothed out. “You were through a lot of hardships, Malcolm, but you brought that upon yourself.” She sighed. “I implied that you must have taken Archer from an orphanage many years ago. You must have allowed the boy to live with Robin.”

"Your Grace, you cannot be serious!" Malcolm's voice rose slightly. "How could Archer be taken to Robin if we wanted to keep Robin's parentage a secret?"

 “That could have been arranged. Sir Edward of Knighton gave Archer some money through a local priest when your son lived in an orphanage. But you could have asked Sir Edward to take the boy to Robin. You could have made up a story that Archer was your illegitimate son from one of your affairs. You didn’t need to name the boy’s mother. In this case, our secret wouldn’t have been uncovered.”

The hooded man nodded. “Edward once offered me to do exactly what you said now.”

Eleanor smiled, showing her teeth, and raised an eyebrow. “And what did you answer?”

He lowered his head. “I told Edward that we couldn’t have endangered Robin’s life and that Archer should have stayed in an orphanage.”

Queen Eleanor drew herself upright in her chair. “Malcolm, I am not amazed. I knew that you must have said something like that.” She smiled. “You have always been a coward.”

Surprised by the sharpness in her reaction, Malcolm bent forward from the waist, placing one open hand upon his chest. “I pray God will forgive me.”

Malcolm of Locksley had been in Outremer twice. The first time, many years ago, when he had turned only eighteen years old, Malcolm had gone to the Holy Land. He had lived in Acre, Jaffa, Tyre, and Jerusalem as he had become the member of the standing army of Christianity in Outremer, one of the Knights Templar. For some time, he had been delighted and honored to be with the Templars, for their reputation for honor, righteousness, and obedient, unquestioning loyalty to the Catholic Church had been sterling and unblemished.

Yet, later, Malcolm had been disappointed in the Order because he had ceased to understand their ideas and the final purpose they had fought for. The Knights Templar had always been quite a secretive society, its rites and ceremonies shrouded in mystery, and that secrecy had irritated Malcolm. Moreover, the Knights Templar had mercilessly killed in the Holy Land, which had caused Malcolm’s reassessment of the Order and his regret for taking the vows. But Malcolm had needed a reason to go back to England, and God had helped him when he had been seriously wounded near Jerusalem by the Saracens; Grand Master of the Knights Templar had been forced by the circumstances to send Malcolm home for recovery.

Malcolm had been immensely happy to leave the Holy Land and the East. He had already spent there more around four years, and he had seen the dreadful things that he had never dreamt of witnessing when he had lived in England. He had survived through many horrors and had killed many people, and he had been sick of bloodshed. He had returned to England with great pleasure. He hadn’t been obliged to go back to the Holy Land because there had been no official Crusade at that time, and nobody could have ordered him to return to Outremer to do his duty to his king and England.

Immediately after his return, Malcolm had assumed the responsibilities of the lord, as his aging father, Sir James Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and the Lord of Locksley, had already been weak and sick. He had learned everything about the management of estates, which had been rather difficult and had required that he invest much energy into that. Malcolm had succeeded in acquiring those skills, and his father had praised him highly and had been happy that his son had turned out to be a brilliant administrator and a generous lord. In two years after his return, his father had died, and Malcolm had become the next Earl of Huntingdon.

Malcolm had inherited a great wealth. He hadn’t planned to marry for quite some time. Throughout six years, he had traveled between Nottingham, his estates in Huntingdon and in Locksley, and the cities and all other places where the King and the Queen of England had held the royal court. Malcolm had loved the splendor of court and thrived in court life; he couldn’t have lived in Locksley or in Huntingdon for long, for life in his estates had been not as entertaining and merry as at court.

He had been so handsome and so charming that women had been driven to him like moths to a flame, and he had had many lovers, from high-bred ladies, both married and unmarried, to servant girls, to peasants from his estates and other shires. Having tasted exotic sins in bordellos of Outremer, Malcolm had often visited brothels in England and in the continental lands of the Angevin Empire; he had usually been accompanied by his fellow courtiers. Malcolm had earned the reputation of a debauchee as he had flirted shamelessly, had danced brilliantly, had drunk abundantly, and had been known for his many affairs with various women. He had also gambled at feasts and at private parties, and he had lost much money, but he had always won everything back.

But one day Malcolm had met young and beautiful Elizabeth at one of the balls in Nottingham, and he had started courting her in a week after their meeting. He had fallen in love with the lady and had married her in six months after their first meeting. Lady Elizabeth of Locksley had died in childbirth with their stillborn daughter. For the next six years, Malcolm had lived in Locksley with Robin, and they had been happy. He had fallen in love with Ghislaine of Gisborne, intending to marry her and combine the Gisborne fiefdom and the Locksley lands, but after Roger of Gisborne’s unfortunate return from the Holy Land, everything had gone entirely wrong.

The tragic circumstances had forced Malcolm to disappear and abandon Robin. There had been no need to stage his death: everyone had assumed that his body had been burned to ashes at Gisborne Manor. He had hidden from the world for many years. He had visited many places and cities, but he had spent his time mainly in the south of England, as well as in Scotland, traveling a lot. From time to time, he had gone to Locksley and to Huntingdon, observing Robin’s life from the corner of a building or from behind a tree in Sherwood, like a low criminal or a mere thief. His heart had been filled with pain and guilt every time he had heard Robin’s name and when he had seen his beloved son from the distance. He had loved and had been proud of his son very much.

Besides, Malcolm had abandoned his second son Archer. Initially, he had placed his youngest son in an orphanage in York with an intention to take him back from there in several days, after marrying Ghislaine. But after the fire, Malcolm had been deprived of a chance to have a family and lead a normal life. Archer’s fate had been sealed – he had been destined to grow up in poverty and as an orphan, without a firm male hand governing and guarding him.

For many years, Malcolm hadn’t seen Archer at all. Six years had passed after the fire before he had started feeling guilty of leaving his second son in an orphanage and even forgetting to check on his wellbeing from his hiding. When Malcolm had gone to Nottingham to have a look at Robin, he had also found Sir Edward of Knighton, his old friend, who had acted as Robin’s legal guardian. Edward had granted Malcolm money to support himself, and then he had visited an orphanage for the first time. When he had seen Archer, a tart feeling of guilt had almost suffocated him, and he had given a local priest all the money he had found in his pocket for Archer.

In the future, Sir Edward had secretly supplied the same priest with some money for Archer. It had been a regular practice that Edward had traveled from Nottingham to York where Archer had lived, making simple requests about the boy’s fate. One day, Sir Edward had said that Archer had escaped from an orphanage after an outrageous scandal he had caused there; one of the boys who had lived at the same orphanage had informed Edward that Archer had gone to Outremer and Byzantine Empire because it had been his dream to travel there. When Malcolm had met Edward next time, his friend had informed him about the dramatic changes in Archer’s life.

As he had learned about his son’s crazy idea, Malcolm had decided to find Archer. He had gone to Outremer in the disguise of a pilgrim. He had departed to the continent and had sailed from Marseilles. The trip had been tiresome but it had gone smoothly until the ship had been damaged too much in the violent storm near the shores of Tyre. Malcolm had survived that shipwreck, and once the waves died down, it had been discovered that the shore had been close. The survivors had made their way to what had seemed their salvation, but they had been immediately attacked by the Saracens who had abducted them and had taken them prisoners. Then Saracen emirs had arrived and confiscated everything the survivors had possessed. Malcolm and others had become slaves.

§§§

Queen Eleanor gazed thoughtfully at Malcolm, her head tilted slightly to one side. “So Malcolm, now tell me about the results of your second great voyage to Outremer. Did you find Archer?” She sneered in derision at the sound of the name.

“I did, only by chance.” He sighed. “I told him the truth about his birth. He didn’t take it well.”

She laughed. “I can imagine,” she said scornfully. “Did you tell Archer that he has a brother?”

“I told Archer Robin’s full name and informed him what station Robin occupies. I wanted him to meet his elder brother so that Robin could take care of him,” Malcolm said. “Archer was outraged; he showed his contempt towards Robin and, of course, me. He vowed that he would take his revenge on Robin for having everything while he had to live in poverty.”

“Another enemy for Robin,” she said, her voice taut with emotion. “Pray tell me why you always do such stupid things that only create problems for people.”

“I will find Archer. I will also warn Robin. Nobody will be harmed.”

“Ah, don’t tell me that you are going to tell Robin the truth!” the queen cried out, infuriated. “I won’t let you ruin his life and hurt him, to wound his tender heart, unless we have to do that.”

“Truth is always better than lies, Your Grace.”

The queen jerked her chin at Malcolm, a dangerous glow in her blue eyes. “Not in this case.”

“Robin will understand. He will–“

“Robin won’t understand. Even if he understands, it will be very hard for him to accept that he lived a life full of lies and secrets.”

Malcolm’s eyes grew wide in a kind of astonishment. “Our motives were noble. We had to keep the secret of his birth to protect him and guarantee a brilliant future for him.”

The queen rose to her feet and advanced towards the hooded man. She stopped right near him, looking at him with a smug smile. He slowly raised his head, and she caught a glimpse of his scarred face from beneath his hood. She didn’t flinch and looked right into his eyes.

Eleanor raised her chin, her face cold; her eyes blazed with anger. “Don’t you dare tell Robin the truth! You may destroy his life! It will hurt him beyond any measure!” Her face relaxed; she glanced away to regain her composure. “You don’t know Robin at all if you suppose that it will be easy for him to accept the truth.”

Malcolm held her gaze. “I knew my son well. I–“

The queen shook her head. “You don’t know Robin. You don’t know _my son_.”

“ _He is also my son!_ I lived with him in childhood!” Malcolm screamed.

“Lower your voice,” the queen hissed between clenched teeth. “Don’t forget where you are.”

Malcolm bowed to her, feeling his cheek aflame with shame. “I beg my pardon, Your Grace.”

Eleanor smiled a little sadly and brushed one of her small, carefully manicured hands across her forehead. “ _Robin is our son, even if nobody knows about that. And nobody should ever know._ ”

“Nobody,” he intoned automatically.

“Exactly. Nobody. Even Robin himself, at least not now,” the queen spoke, her voice low and dispassionate. “Robin changed a great deal as he matured. From Thornton’s letters, I know that Robin used to be arrogant and very spoiled in childhood. Richard told me the same when he met Robin in Poitou.” She smiled brightly. “But Robin changed so much. He became so self-sacrificing and so caring about others. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have given up his titles and lands.”

“I admire him for his actions.”

“And so do I,” Eleanor said proudly. Then her smile was gone, her face turned as though carved out of marble. “But Robin’s nature didn’t change. Robin is an idealistic dreamer and a sensitive romantic, despite all the years in the Holy Land he spent as a bloodthirsty warrior. His tender heart will be wounded by the harsh truth; his dreams will be broken.”

Eleanor swung around and walked away, then dropped into her cushioned chair. She leaned back in her chair, watching Malcolm who stood straight in the middle of the room.

“You are right,” he conceded. ”We shouldn’t tell him the truth unless we have to.”

She uttered a mirthless little laugh. “We are in agreement, you see, Malcolm.”

He sighed. “At least we agree on that.”

As the windows were framed with colorful glasses, the dull light changed through the window from white to slightly gold as dawn progressed. The fire in the hearth was gone, and it was becoming a colder. The only candle extinguished.

“I want to ask you a question.” Queen Eleanor shot Malcolm an incriminating look. “Why did you fail to realize how dangerous it was to tell Lady Ghislaine of Gisborne, your lover, the truth?”

“When I told Ghislaine the truth about Robin’s birth, we thought that Roger was dead. Later, when he came back, I had no idea that Ghislaine would inform Roger,” Malcolm defended himself.

Eleanor shrugged in incomprehension and disgust, her gaze stony. “Your foolishness led us to the very bottom.”

"Your Grace!" Malcolm said, stammering a little. "It was not only my fault! Sir Roger of Gisborne betrayed us! It was also Roger’s fault!”

“Roger of Gisborne was a bloody traitor to me, but you, Malcolm, are not innocent,” she countered. “I still don’t understand why you revealed our secret to Ghislaine during your pillow talk.”

“I didn’t know that–”

“I don’t care what you knew or not. I am stating the facts,” the Queen Mother interrupted in a flat, expressionless voice. “Ghislaine told her husband, either deliberately or accidentally, after he miraculously returned alive from his long captivity in the Holy Land. And then he ruined everything – the lives of so many people and all our plans.”

“I didn’t suspect that Roger of Gisborne would go directly to King Henry.”

“Malcolm, you had to predict that. Do I need to remind you of the cascade of all the bizarre events? Sir Roger of Gisborne was once a loyal knight of Henry Plantagenet, but he committed an act of high treason in the Holy Land. Roger sold valuable information about a planned attack on one of the villages to the Saracens to save his life after his unexpected capture somewhere near Damascus; the attack of the Christians was stopped and those Norman knights were brutally killed by the infidels. And later other Roger’s comrades deserted Roger, allowing him to rot in the foreign prison and hoping that he would die there for his treachery.”

“I beg you not to judge me too harshly!”

Eleanor flicked her wrathful to the hooded man. “But you knew that Roger of Gisborne was a traitor to Henry and England,” she insisted.

He nodded. “Yes. Ghislaine told me once we secretly met in the woods after Roger’s return.”

“You knew that! Therefore, Malcolm, you knew that Sir Roger of Gisborne, a former loyal subject, became a high traitor. He miraculously survived his captivity and returned to England. At that time, Roger was a man who wished to seek for his king’s forgiveness. He knew that Henry would eventually learn about his treachery, and his return to England; he wanted to keep his fiefdom and title, even though he was infected with leprosy.”

“I couldn’t imagine that Roger would report the case to King Henry,” he repeated.

“Fool,” the queen spat scathingly. “You could easily guess how Roger could act – you could gauge his thoughts. You could also predict that Ghislaine would tell Roger the truth; after all, she and my Henry had an affair in the past, and she still remembered him.” She gave a derisory snort. “It was as clear as a day and a sunset that they were unlikely to keep Robin’s true parentage a secret; they were never loyal to me, but to Henry. Even after I arranged Ghislaine’s marriage to Roger of Gisborne after my husband had discarded her, his young and disgraced mistress, and I wished to save her, she was ungrateful and never loyal to me.”

“Not everything can be predicted,” he continued the same line of his defense.

“You are intelligent and well-educated, but you have always lacked common sense and logic. Thanks to God Robin took his logical ability after me,” the queen supplied contemptuously.

“Maybe, Your Grace.” He was growing tired of her insults, but he knew that he deserved them.

Eleanor looked at him warily, and Malcolm raised his head, allowing her to see the upper part of his scarred face. He watched her with shadowed eyes, and she could see that it embarrassed him, even shamed him, to get a reminder of his mistakes from her. He wasn’t consumed by remorse, but at least their conversation revived the tingling of shame and the pang of remorse in him, Eleanor thought. But that was not enough – that would never be enough for her to forgive him. But

In a moment, the Queen Mother was pulled out of distraction into the present. A sudden dark flush mounted to her pale cheeks, and she resumed speaking in a voice like iron. “And then Sir Roger of Gisborne revealed to my Henry his wife’s shameful secret – about my affair with you and about Robin’s existence. And, of course, the infuriated Henry ordered Bailiff Longthorn to kill you and Robin and Roger.” She sighed. “Henry couldn’t let you live knowing that I shamed him so much and had a child with another man.”

“Your husband didn’t need the living proof of the queen’s adultery,” Malcolm stated tensely.

“Henry wanted you and Robin dead, sooner or later,” she murmured faintly.

“I know.”

“Roger sold his soul twice – to the Saracens by betraying his comrades and then to his own sovereign, whom he had previously betrayed, by exposing a young innocent boy to the risks of his untimely death.”

Malcolm clenched his fists. “And I have always loathed Roger for what he did to us. He was a damned worm, a traitor to England, his king, and his queen.”

“And Roger of Gisborne paid for that. Henry ordered Bailiff Longhorn to kill Robin, you, and Roger. And Ghislaine, Roger’s love, also died.”

“She didn’t deserve death.”

“Malcolm, Ghislaine’s death was a coincidence.”

“It is not a coincidence,” he whispered, his voice trembling, his hands shaking.

“Ah, my memory failed me! I forgot that you accidentally caused her death,” Eleanor interjected, her voice uncompromising and cold.

“Please don’t remind me of that… Please don’t…” He felt ashamed of himself and his past, wishing to run away from guilt.

“I am sorry,” the queen said softly. “I didn’t intend to be so harsh.”

Malcolm wondered if he had heard her words right, for Eleanor of Aquitaine rarely apologized, if apologized at all, but if she did, it was sincere. “Thank you,” he muttered.

“Malcolm, you didn’t want to kill Ghislaine; it was an unfortunate accident. You would have died in the fire in any case because the bailiff used an opportunity to kill all of you in the same house and cast the blame on young Guy of Gisborne. The bailiff wanted you dead and planned to expropriate the Gisborne lands and then Locksley lands; he couldn’t have the Earldom of Huntingdon, but he could have Locksley.”

“But he didn’t know that he would gain nothing from the deal.”

“Well, my husband was the real villain, but others paid a high price too,” she said acidly.

A deep silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire, reigned in the chamber.

Malcolm said nothing. They understood one another and decided to drop the subject.

“The fire had the only good consequence – your presumable death, Malcolm. You had to stay dead to protect Robin because Henry and everyone needed to think that you were dead.”

Malcolm sighed. “At least something good came out of the fire.”

“As my Henry had already known our secret by that time, your death made our efforts to secure Robin’s future easier. Henry was satisfied that you were dead and let Robin live, and, of course, I was doomed to stay under a house arrest until Henry’s death; Henry fiercely hated me for my so-called betrayal,” the Queen Mother said in a voice steely with control.

Malcolm stared down at his feet and shuffled them as if the concentration of eye alone were responsible for their motion. “I know that I was reckless. I also was a bad father to my two sons. And I am sorry that you were deprived of a single chance to be released from your prison after your husband had learned the truth about you and me.”

“My troubles are my own ones, but Robin’s troubles were our troubles, Malcolm. You are a very bad father,” Eleanor accused; revulsion at him rose in her throat, so astute and nauseating that she wanted to vomit. “Where were you when Bailiff Longthorn tried to take Robin’s life after the fire? Where were you when Robin needed a guidance of an older, experienced man – a father or a brother?”

“I had to hide,” he insisted. “I had to.”

“I know, Malcolm. I mean that you could have been a father to Robin if you hadn’t disclosed our secret to Ghislaine. Of course, you couldn’t be with Robin after the fire even if you wanted.”

“At least Your Grace doesn’t blame me for that.”

“I blame you for many other things.”

“I know.”

Eleanor raised her chin, her eyes flashing. “Richard has always taken good care of Robin, at first out of duty to me and then out of love for Robin. He offered Robin his friendship and guidance, which was so necessary for a young man in the period of his transition to adulthood. Richard has been Robin’s friend throughout many years. The relationship with Richard shaped many features of Robin’s personality and helped him become a man.”

He arched a brow. “Our king loves Robin, doesn’t he?”

She smiled. “Richard loves Robin very much, much more than his other loyal subjects.”

“And that is why he elevated Robin at war court?” Malcolm inquired.

“No.” Eleanor shook her head in denial. “Robin became so close to Richard when he had the knighthood training here, in Poitiers; Richard himself knighted Robin. Later, Richard promoted him to the captain of the private guard only because Robin proved himself as an accomplished warrior and a great leader. Robin deserved his promotion.”

“I am so glad to hear that our king and Robin are friends.” Malcolm’s teeth gleamed in a smile under the hood. “It is wonderful.”

“Quite wonderful.” She laughed, on a shrill note that betrayed her anger. “It sounds especially wonderful if it is said by a man who brought so many problems upon all of us.”

“Oh.” He breathed deeply in frustration.

The queen measured him with a pitying look, then glanced away. “Your friend, Sir Edward of Knighton, knew the truth. He played a great role in Robin’s life. He loved and supported our son, helped him run his estates and regularly consulted him. Together with Richard, he defended him from Bailiff Longthorn. He tried to play a fatherly role in Robin’s life, but I doubt that Sir Edward understood Robin well; the role of a mentor was more Richard’s than Sir Edward’s.”

“I know, Your Grace. I have always been grateful to Edward.”

She smiled wryly. “You must be.”

§§§

The Queen Mother rose to her feet and approached the table. She lit another candle as the old candle had been burnt to ashes. Then she returned to her armchair.

Malcolm shuddered with all his body. “I know that King Richard, Edward, and you, Your Grace, did for Robin much more than I could have done.”

Eleanor sighed. “I did as much as I could do, given that I was always watched by Henry and his numerous spies; I spent under house arrest very many years after our unsuccessful revolt in 1173.” Her eyes fixed on the red flame of the candle. “I begged Richard to save Robin from Bailiff Longthorn because my son was the only man whom I could have revealed this secret. Richard helped and saved Robin. Richard himself was very young, only eighteen years old at the time of the fire and nearly twenty at the time of bailiff’s last attempt on Robin’s life; but despite his age, Richard already was an out-and-out warrior and commanded troops in Aquitaine, so that it was not difficult for him to find the bailiff and kill him.”

“Why did King Richard help you?” Malcolm asked, astonished. “King Henry had many bastards, and your legitimate sons never cared for them. Why did he do that for Robin?”

Eleanor regarded him with revulsion; she still didn’t forgive him for the fact that his actions had created them so many problems. “Richard did that not for Robin, but for me, his mother. He has always been very close to me; we love each other dearly.” She stared at the window; the dawn was changing into the dull gray morning. “Besides, Richard hated Henry for the horrible treatment of me, his Queen, his wife and the mother of his children. And it was Henry who ordered to kill Robin, an innocent young boy who was guilty only of the mere fact of his birth.”

“And King Richard’s hatred for his own father pushed him to rebel against his father’s wishes and save Robin,” Malcolm finished for her.

“Exactly. This is how it happened.”

Malcolm lowered his head, in shame that he was unable to save his son by himself. “I owe my thanks to King Richard.”

The queen sneered at him, her face twisting into a scornful look. “Richard did that for me and to spite his father; he even confronted Henry regarding Robin’s fate.” She smiled charmingly. “At that time, Richard couldn’t imagine that he would trust and love Robin so much.”

Malcolm shivered under her hard gaze; she clearly was out of sympathy with him. “How did Richard manage to persuade your husband, the king, to spare Robin’s life?”

“Richard had a long talk with Henry; they argued, then Henry conceded. I still don’t know how Richard managed to achieve that; but it was Richard, so I am not amazed.” Eleanor shut her eyes for an instant to regain her composure; the memories always unnerved her. “Richard didn’t tell me everything. I know that he promised to Henry that nobody would ever learn about the secret and that he himself would ensure that. Richard pledged that he would keep an eye on Robin.”

“And what about the Gisbornes?”

“I know that one of Henry’s conditions was that Roger of Gisborne’s offspring would be exiled and that Richard would arrange that Robin would never give the Gisborne lands to Guy of Gisborne,” Eleanor said sadly. “My Henry wanted to take cruel revenge on the Gisbornes for Roger of Gisborne’s treason and for Ghislaine’s presumed infidelity to him, the King of England, during the time of their love affair.”

“That is an outrageous deal.”

“I don’t deny that.” Queen Eleanor let out a morbid sigh. “Only God knows how worried and scared I was when my husband tried to murder Robin by conspiring with the vile Bailiff Longthorn. Henry didn’t care what I would feel if my youngest son, my poor boy, died; he was angry and ready to kill everyone who knew about the betrayal of my marriage vows with you, Malcolm.”

“Those moments should have been very difficult for you. You were alone and imprisoned, Robin’s life was in danger.”

“Yes, I was under house arrest in Pontefract Castle at that time, and I could do nothing by myself,” the queen continued reminiscing about the past. “I was depressed and scared, feeling like a caged lioness whose lionets were taken away to be killed.” A wistful look crossed her face that turned impassive in an instance. “But I was ready to fight for Robin. I appealed to Richard, I begged him almost on my knees when he secretly came to Pontefract after he had received my urgent request to visit me; I had to confess to my son that I had cuckolded his father with another nobleman and had a child with him. Richard was shocked by the revelation, but he understood why I betrayed Henry; he conceded and decided to help me by saving his young half-brother whom he didn’t know at all. Later, when Robin’s life was no longer in danger and he peacefully lived in Locksley as a lord and an earl, I always cared about Robin’s wellbeing and his life.”

“You are a very strong woman, Your Grace.”

“Certainly, someone had to be worried about young Robin, while his father neglected him and roamed around the world,” she said with ominous coolness.

“You are again cruel to me. At that time, I was recovering from the injuries I had received in the fire at Gisborne Manor. You know how terribly sick I was after the fire.”

Eleanor half-closed her eyes so that they gleamed like bright slits. “I know that you were injured, but by the time when the bailiff kidnapped Robin and imprisoned him, you had almost recovered and you could definitely walk and talk.”

“My face… I couldn’t return!”

“I know that you had to abandon Robin, but you could have tried to at least find where the bailiff held our son prisoner and save him. Instead, you didn’t appear at all, leaving Robin alone, young and helpless, in great trouble.”

“I thought that you would find a way to save him!”

The queen shook her head, her eyes still half-shut, her face screwed up in disgust. “I know that you are a coward. You hoped that I would save Robin, though you knew that I was imprisoned. Robin had to live through so many troubles which were solved by Richard and me.” She opened her eyes and stared at him, her gaze accusing and angry. “You forgot about your son and hid from your mistakes, like only weak fools do. You started wandering around the world, hiding somewhere in the woods and later being imprisoned by the Saracens.”

Malcolm felt his heart sinking in his throat. He loathed himself for his weakness and cowardice; he didn’t need to be always reminded about that, but Eleanor thought differently. His nostrils were pinched and he had difficulty with his breathing. He felt as if he were about to be sick. “You will never forgive me, Your Grace? You will never stop loathing me?”

Something softened in the queen's cold and regal face, and she smiled at him with a hint of compassion. “This is not about forgiveness, Malcolm. This is about responsibility for your actions. How do you think I can feel for you after so many problems your behavior had caused to Robin and Richard and me? I am sorry, but I can never admire and respect you.”

He sighed comically. “How I understand you! And how I wish I might really change something from the past, but I cannot. And I am sorry for this.”

Suddenly, Eleanor looked troubled. “Now it is not a time to apologize. We have something to discuss. Now listen to me.” She lowered her voice. “Something happened.”

“What, Your Grace?”

The queen’s mouth tightened and turned down at the corners. “My son John knows that I have an illegitimate son. It was one of the reasons why I asked Richard to protect Robin and recall him back to Acre.” Her age-spotted hand moved over her gown as she re-arranged her skirts. “John’s spies are everywhere. We must be extremely careful.”

Malcolm lowered his head, alarmed and helpless. “Robin is in danger?” he asked tersely.

“Yes and no.”

He raised his head. “How so?”

The Queen Mother stared at Malcolm. Her eyes were alight, dangerous glints of quartz in their darkness; she could see only a part of his face under his hood. “John knows that I have a son, but he doesn’t know his name and the details of his birth. He can produce a long list of suspects and then narrow it down to six-seven names, but he will be unable to learn the true identity of the boy.” She rubbed her temples. “It would be better if John never learned the truth. John may become King of England one day, and he will be able to do whatever he wants, then.”

“I see.”

“John hates me, his own mother, for loving Richard more than him. He will do everything to hurt me, even if it means that he has to kill his own half-brother who will never be even his rival for the Duchy of Aquitaine.”

“Well, as far as I know, you and Prince John have always had a tense relationship.”

“It is true.”

Malcolm blinked in astonishment. “And what are you planning to do?”

She clasped her hands on her lap. “We have to send John on a false trace. He should think that another man is the one he is looking for.”

“And how to do that?”

“Maybe we will make John suspect Roger of Stoke as I have heard that he is dead. Well, leave everything to Richard and me,” she ordered. “I will think of something. Richard will help.”

“Alright.”

“Maybe we will arrange a marriage for Robin.”

“A marriage?”

Queen Eleanor looked pensive. “A right political marriage will suit Robin very well. It will restrain his rebellious nature and make him think more about his future and the consequences of his actions before he does something,” she opined.

“You mean that a right political marriage won’t let Robin give up his titles again?”

“Precisely, Malcolm. Don’t get me wrong, for I am proud of Robin and love him. Robin is a unique man, without equal.” She sighed. “But we must think about his future. I don’t want him to end his life as an outlaw or on the gallows if John ascends the throne. Robin should never turn an outlaw again.”

“It is a good idea, especially given that Robin’s childhood sweetheart married another man.”

The queen arched a brow. “Lady Marian of Knighton is married? Whom did she marry?”

“Lady Marian married Sir Guy of Gisborne,” Malcolm replied; he screwed up his face.

“Well, never mind. You know that I have never approved of Robin’s betrothal to a knight’s daughter. It was your idea to marry Robin off to Sir Edward’s daughter.”

“It was a good betrothal. It was–”

Eleanor cut him off sharply. “Robin has my blood in his veins, and all his descendants are also my descendants. On the Huntingdon line, you are distantly related to the Scottish royal house and very distantly related to the Plantagenets. Moreover, Robin is one of the premier earls of the English realm, and he surely deserves a better match than a knight’s daughter.”

“Edward knew our secret. We had to make sure that he would not talk.”

“Sir Edward of Knighton was a man of honor, such a contrast to you,” Eleanor flung at him, her voice scornful. “He would have kept everything in secret in any case. He swore to me that he would be silent, and he kept his word. I never even thought to silence him forever because I believed him; I saw how honorable he was.”

“And he eventually died for King Richard,” Malcolm finished.

“I know. I ordered many masses on behalf of Sir Edward. He was a very good man.”

“Yes, he was.” Malcolm again felt miserable and unworthy; Eleanor taunted him with Edward’s honor, comparing him to his old friend.

She became thoughtful. “Well, now our Robin is free from any obligations. It is even for the better that his sweetheart turned him down. Robin must be heartbroken now, I suspect, but it will pass; at least I hope so. Now we have many interesting options to make his life safer, and this is the most important thing for me.”

“What are you going to do?”

The queen’s lips curved into a small smile. “I am planning to arrange a political marriage for Robin. Now, when he is alone, he will surely agree if Richard asks him. I have one lady in mind.”

“Who is she?”

“She is Lady Melisende Plantagenet, Countess de Bordeaux in her own right. She is the daughter of deceased Geoffrey Plantagenet, Count of Nantes, Henry’s second brother,” Eleanor answered.

“So she is King Richard’s first cousin on his father’s side,” he concluded.

“Yes,” she said. “There are no obstacles for this marriage. We don’t need papal dispensation because Robin and Melisende are related to each other very distantly, through Lady Judith, the niece of King William I the Conqueror, who married one of the Huntingdons more than a hundred years ago.”

Malcolm pursed his lips in a silent whistle. “It is an excellent match! Robin’s marriage to the Plantagenet family will make his life and social standing safer. He will be beyond the reach of his enemies.”

Malcolm’s words triggered Queen Eleanor’s anger. She suddenly felt sick of anger with Malcolm who was happy to see Robin married to the lady of royal blood, but who did so few really good things for his eldest son in his long life. Malcolm seemed to be caught in a web of his grave mistakes and hidden mysteries from the past, which could have been more damaging for Robin than any war or heartbreaks, and Eleanor never wanted those truths to hurt her son. She sighed, her anger slackened.

The queen smiled. “Melisende is extraordinarily beautiful, I bet, one of the most beautiful women in Christendom. She is also like me in many ways – exceptionally intelligent, impeccably educated, strong, witty, conniving, cunning, and equal to any man in intellect. She is brutally honest with those she loves and is very loyal to her family and England, though she may be very, very ruthless and even cruel and stubborn to the point of absurd.”

“Interesting description, Your Grace.”

“Robin will have nothing to complain about. She is a much better choice than Lady Marian of Knighton.”

“Robin loves Lady Marian,” Malcolm said dolefully.

“Even if Robin loves Lady Marian now, he may fall out of love in the future. After all, betrayals lead to one's disappointment and disappointment to the re-assessment of one's life and feelings. And we often love not one man or one woman,” Eleanor mused.

“Indeed.”

“I am sure that Robin will be very much interested in Melisende, and she will drive him to the point of madness with her mysterious charm, sharp wit, and passionate spirit covered under regal coldness. There is a chance that this marriage won’t be of purely political nature.”

“I hope so. That would be great.”

She smiled. “There is no guarantee, but there is always a chance.”

“If it is God’s will,” he said in a detached tone.

“I will write to Richard about the marriage for Robin. I am sure he will agree.”

“I trust this marriage will happen after their return from the Crusade.”

“No. Earlier.”

“How so, Your Grace?”

“Melisende is on the way to Acre now,” Eleanor explained. “She should have spent a month or so in Limassol, with Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, before heading to Acre. Maybe Robin has already met her either in Acre or in Limassol.”

“Perfect! Perfect!” he exclaimed, pleased with the brilliant prospects for Robin.

“Many of Richard’s and my Poitevin vassals are conspiring with John, and we must guarantee their loyalty to Richard. Richard invited Melisende to come to Acre with the purpose to marry her off to one of his most loyal high-ranking noblemen, presumably to the Earl of Leicester or to the Earl of Oxford, but now I am going to request that Richard arranges Melisende’s marriage to Robin. Melisende is just a very young lady, and many lords and vassals, who had pledged their allegiance to her and then to me and to Richard as their king, don’t take her seriously, scheming behind her back against her, me, and Richard. Thus, we have to find a husband for her, someone who is staunchly loyal to Richard and who will be able to control these displeased and rebellious vassals.”

“I see.”

“I will also warn Richard about the potential threat from Archer,” the Queen Mother added. She pronounced the name of Malcolm’s youngest illegitimate son with derision.

“Thank you.”

She let out a smug smile. “Unlike you, I am concerned about Robin’s life and troubles; I am trying to arrange his future and make his life safer, for example by arranging a marriage for him,” she said roughly. “I may have never been a good mother for Robin, like I have never been a good mother for all my other children. But God is my witness that I have always cared about all of my offspring, including Robin. I love them all.”

Malcolm lowered his head in shame. “You and Richard defended Robin, and this is the debt I will never repay to you.”

“I don’t ask about repayment, for it was done for Robin.”

“Your Grace, I have always wanted to ask you one question.”

“Go on.”

“Ghislaine never told me who Guy’s father is – Roger of Gisborne or King Henry. Who is his father?”

“Why do you need to know that?” Her voice held the hint of a challenge. “If Ghislaine didn’t tell you, why should I do that?”

“I want to know. I–”

“What is the purpose of that?”

He blushed under the hood. “Richard sacrificed the Gisbornes to save Robin from King Henry.”

“Ah, I see where you are going.” The queen frowned, and then shrugged lightly. “What difference does it make now, after so many years?”

“Did Richard _sacrifice his own half-brother to save another half-brother_?”

Lost in her own melancholy, Queen Eleanor didn’t notice the silence that had fallen between them, or the scrutiny to which Malcolm was subjecting her. “We had no other option,” she said finally. “My Henry wished to take revenge on the Gisbornes for their betrayals, one real and one imaginary. At that time, Richard didn’t care about both Robin and Guy, but he gave me his word that he would do everything to save Robin, for me, his mother.”

“And Richard accepted what King Henry demanded,” he inferred.

“Yes,” the queen said, with a touch of sadness in her tone. “We had to do that for Robin. And later nothing could have been amended.”

“My God!” The hooded man put his face into his hands.

“Now can you imagine, Malcolm, how Robin will react if he learns the truth?”

The man shook his head. “No, no. It would be a disaster to tell him the truth.”

“Maybe it won’t be a complete disaster, but Robin won’t be pleased with the truth. He will be distressed and confused, and he will blame himself,” the queen opined. “Robin is an honest man, and he will think that he is the reason of the Gisbornes’ misery because we sacrificed Guy of Gisborne’s happiness and wellbeing to protect him and give him the life he deserved.”

“Oh, my Lord,” he muttered.

"We must try to keep everything a secret unless we have no other option and must tell Robin the truth."

“I agree, Your Grace.”

“Good.”

“I just don’t understand one thing, Your Grace.”

“What, Malcolm?”

“King Henry didn’t believe that Ghislaine was carrying his child, did he?”

Queen Eleanor sighed sorrowfully and tiredly. “Henry never believed Ghislaine. He insulted and humiliated her when she told him good news. He said that she deceived him, and then simply threw her out of the castle. He didn’t believe her because there were persistent rumors that she had several lovers.” She pitied the young girl whom she had helped find a husband many years ago. “The vile man, one of Ghislaine’s former rejected suitors, spread those false rumors at court, and it was enough to discredit her in Henry’s eyes.”

“It is a sad story.”

“Very sad,” the Queen Mother agreed. “Henry loathed Ghislaine since he had rejected and humiliated her. He didn’t care that his revenge would fall on the innocent children when he offered Richard his terms of their wicked deal.”

“This is very cruel!” Malcolm cried out in shock.

“My husband was a cruel man. After all, he made me, the Queen of England and the mother of his children, a miserable, rightless prisoner for so many years,” Eleanor said. Her voice was hoarse with rage, her teeth clenched and her hands opened and closed convulsively. “Very few people understand the true depths of cruelty that lay behind Henry’s handsome face and princely bearing.”

“What Henry Plantagenet did to Your Grace is terribly cruel.”

She thanked him with a brief and warm smile for his sincere concern. “Well, Henry was the King of England. When power collides with human values, power prevails.”

“Undoubtedly and unfortunately.”

“I don’t like what Richard had to do, but I would have done it again for Robin. Unfortunately, what is done cannot be undone,” Eleanor said steadily. Her voice recovered its coldness.

Malcolm raised his head and nodded in agreement. “For Robin.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “And, for Robin, I have to ask you for help.”

“How can I help you? I will do whatever you want and order me, Your Grace.”

“Everyone who knows the truth is already dead, except for Richard, de Longchamp, me, and your loyal servant Thornton,” Eleanor said emphatically. “Some people could have seen Richard in Locksley when he was there once, I mean when he saved Robin from the bailiff.”

“Thornton knows; he helped us play our charade. I don’t think that others remember Richard.”

The queen looked doubtful, as if she had wanted to add that all things were possible, but not miracles. “Everyone who knows the truth must be dealt with,” she said in a steel voice. “You know that it is very important to keep our secret safe; it is important for Robin’s safety.”

“What do you mean?”

“You never know what I think,” she answered amiably, with a small smile. “Go back to England. Make sure that everyone who can know or suspect something about our secret must never utter a word.”

He glared at her. “Oh, I don’t think you mean that.”

Eleanor’s lips started to curve in a smile. “I mean they must never say a word. Understand as you wish.” Her face thrived in her smile. “But can you do that? People who have no hold over their process of thinking are usually ruined by liberty of thought. I still hope you are not one of them.”

Malcolm winced, affected by her raillery. “I will do everything I can.”

The Queen Mother chuckled softly. There was a long pause, filled with the dull echoes of footsteps outside of the room. Then the door opened and William de Longchamp emerged from the semidarkness; he bowed and said that it was time to leave.

Queen Eleanor gracefully got to her feet. “I am coming, William. A minute.”

De Longchamp bowed again. “As you command, Your Grace. Just don’t be late. We have to leave.”

The queen sighed. “Malcolm, I am serious.” Her voice emerged as a hoarse croak. “Everyone who may know or may suspect something about the secret must never talk. It is necessary for Robin’s safety and for the stability of the Angevin Empire.” She lowered her voice. “And, of course, the Queen of England cannot be disgraced. My reputation must be untarnished, and I am not supposed to have any illegitimate children.”

“I understand.”

“I made silent everyone who knew about the story,” she began, then trailed off. For a brief moment, she contemplated what she could say without shocking him. “Some died due to natural reasons; some had to die a premature death. The midwife and my lady-in-waiting are long gone, died from natural causes, thanks to God. Another midwife and a lady-in-waiting died for unknown reasons, say, because of incurable sicknesses of unknown nature.”

“What really happened to them?” he questioned, almost able to guess the answer in advance.

“I poisoned them,” Eleanor said coolly.

Malcolm felt a shiver running down his spine; the queen had done a necessary thing, but he wasn’t accustomed to speaking about death so calmly. “And what about the peasants from Locksley?”

“Unfortunately, Richard had to deal with several people who saw de Longchamp and him on the night when they delivered sick Robin to Locksley after they had killed the bailiff,” she informed honestly.

“What did he do to them?” He feared to hear an answer, but he knew it.

The Queen Mother looked at him as if he were a complete fool or a lunatic. “How do you think? Could Richard spare their lives and let them gossip that a young Norman knight with red-gold hair, who spoke highly accented English, delivered young Lord Robin home wounded and unconscious? Richard’s head was hooded, but someone still saw him, as he said.”

“They are dead…” He understood everything but it was difficult to accept that, his heart tearing in pain and guilt. Red-gold hair was the most well-known feature of the Plantagenets, and no risks could have been taken that Richard could have been recognized by someone in Locksley.

“Yes, Malcolm. They were killed because they were very curious. Robin’s future was at stake, and we couldn’t let the witnesses live and gossip.”

“I knew that. It is just…” he stuttered. “I know that it must have been done.”

“Good. Now you have to make sure that nobody from Locksley can potentially betray us or guess what happened many years ago,” she instructed.

“There will be an absolute silence,” he promised, his voice cracking.

“You must do that.” The queen let out a small smile. “Have a good journey back to England.”

Without a backward glance or a word of farewell, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine went out of the door, her gait steady and proud. She was every inch the queen, the regal splendor in each and every fibre of her appearance and heart. She was like a star in the sky: impossible to touch and grasp, always regal and stunningly beautiful, and also capable of wreaking havoc; and she had many secrets, not only _the secret about the queen’s golden boy_ kept her up in the night.

Soon de Longchamp returned and accompanied the hooded man from the Maubergeonne Tower to the garden and then to the stables. Soon Malcolm was already on his way back to England.

§§§

Vaisey, Guy, and Allan returned to Nottingham in the gathering December dusk, approximately in an hour after Marian had left Rebecca’s cottage. They were exhausted because the journey from London to Nottingham was long and arduous. It was raining so heavily that the roads were flooded and became impassable; in some places, they were partly frozen due to the recent snowfall. They had to make frequents stops and once even to change the route due to the worsening weather conditions. The sheriff took his anger out on Guy and Allan who waited for the end of the journey impatiently, if only they no longer had to see Vaisey’s furious face.

Guy and Allan dismounted near the Locksley Manor and flung the reins to a young stable boy. Guy nodded at the groom, stripped off his gloves, and, blowing into the cupped hands, entered the manor. Allan followed his master and immediately turned into the servants’ quarters; he dreamt of changing his clothes and spending several hours in a warm bed.

Guy rejoiced in the warmth of the manor. Although his hands were gloved during their trip from London, his fingers were still numb from the cold. Thornton presented him with a cup of hot spiced wine, which Guy took with gratitude. Guy thought a great deal about his future, and there was one point which he was determined to change – he wasn't going to lead a life filled with tension and scandals. They had to talk and sort out their problems and differences in the light of the recent revelations.

Determined to talk to his wife about their lingering conflict, Guy went in search of Marian, hoping that she was awake. Guy passed the hall and ascended the stairs, making his way to her bedchamber. But knocking on her door produced no answer. The fact that Marian wasn’t in her chamber was not in itself a cause for alarm; she was probably busy in the dining room. He went downstairs, and some kind of premonition prompted him to go to the study.

Guy opened the door and risked a look inside. His eyes registered Marian who sat on the floor, hugging her knees with her arms. Many candles were almost extinguished, filling the air with a heavy aroma of smoke. Marian was dressed in her white silk gown and softly-glowing pearls on her neck, with airy silk russet sleeves, everything shining with faultless elegance and grace. Her long, brunette hair was bound with strings of sequins; the silver-embroidered headdress on her head glowed in the twilight of the room. Her large, sapphire blue eyes were glassy. Amid the dull blaze of some still burning candles, she looked like a shining light in the night sky.

“God’s blood, Marian! What are you doing on the floor?” Guy asked, with a note of concern.

“No tricks, I am just sitting here, for I wanted to be alone… to think,” Marian responded, her head half turned to him. “I didn’t expect that you would return from London today.”

“The sheriff wanted to return. We left earlier than planned,” Guy explained. “How was your day?”

She feared to have a candid talk with him, as if she were going to die after saying a single word. “Today was an interesting day.” Her voice sounded ominous.

Guy lifted one eyebrow. “Wonderful,” he said merely.

“This day was… rather unusual,” she said, sarcasm coloring her tone.

Her sarcasm disheartened him. His mouth flattened; his eyes became cold as ice. “Pray tell me, my dear wife, what were you doing? Were you waiting for me?” he asked tauntingly.

Marian looked pointedly at him. “I am serious. The day was unforgettable.”

Her voice startled him. “What?”

“I learned the tragic story of your childhood,” she replied.

Guy gasped in amazement. “Surely, you are kidding me,” he muttered in an ugly, shocked tone, his face hardening. "You must be jesting!"

She shook her head, smiling grimly. “It is not a joke. And it is good that now I know the truth.”

Guy stared at her incredulously, trembling as though in a trance. The dark blue flame flared up in his steel blue eyes; his gaze possessed a lethal glow she had never seen in a human face before. Marian instinctively recoiled from him, fear nearly choking her as she stared at Guy, watching the expression of savage fury spread across his handsome face.

Feeling chilled inside, Marian gazed at him for a long, suspenseful moment and then looked away. “I learned many things,” she said at last, her voice morose and shuddering with tight emotion. “I never imagined that your parents and Robin’s father died in the fire, together and on the same day.”

“Who told you that?” Guy managed to say slowly, his voice low and grim.

“It doesn’t matter. I just know.”

He seated himself in a nearby chair. “What do you know?”

“You don’t need to look so shocked, for there is no reason for that. I have been interested in your past for so long. Some time or other I would learn,” Marian responded. “I know everything – about your father’s leprosy, the fire at Gisborne Manor, the banishment of your sister Isabella and you from Locksley, and some other things.”

“And do you know who ruined my life?” His voice sounded scornful.

She sprang to her feet and strode towards Guy, taking a seat on beside him. A thought of Robin’s involvement in the disgrace of the Gisbornes made her blood mount to her cheeks. Her heart seemed to stop dead. “Robin Hood,” she said, her voice barely audible.

He heard her quiet murmur. “Hood,” he hissed.

“So it is true?”

“It is complicated, but Hood is at fault.”

“What did Robin do?” she asked insistently.

“You really want to know? Are you sure that you want to know?”

She nodded numbly. “Yes.”

A long silence followed. Marian veered her gaze to the window that wasn’t draped with the heavy green-lavender brocade curtains. In spite of the frost feathers on the glass, she could see blurred shapes outside and the dark clouds scurrying across the winter sky, an obvious sign that it would be raining again later in spite of the severe frost.

Guy hated that many people felt for him only unmitigated contempt, and he had always feared that Marian had also unjustly heaped the same disdain onto him. He could no longer tolerate that she considered Robin Hood a saint and him a sinner, if not the most villainous creature in the world. If she wanted to know the truth, he would grant her wish. It would be his small revenge on Robin, whom he still planned to kill by himself as an act of personal revenge for the plight of the Gisbornes.

He hesitated whether he should have told her all the truth, more accurately speaking what he believed to be the truth. For a moment, he lingered, on the verge of a certainty, giving the nervousness tightening his stomach muscles time to subside. Yet, he knew that he had to unmask the truth and change his image in Marian's eyes; he had to talk to her, at least to save himself from his demons.

Guy swore through his teeth, breaking the silence. He cast a desperate glance around, his eyes glistening in an odd mixture of endless sadness and hot anger. “Robin Hood destroyed my life. He ruined everything and everyone I loved. I lost everything because of Hood.”

Marian heaved a sigh. “Robin allowed the local bailiff and the villagers to expel you and your sister Isabella. You were forced to leave England and go away,” she said quietly. “Is that what you mean?”

Guy frowned. “It is the truth, but there are some other things you don’t know.”

Her sapphire eyes turned both shocked and astonished. “What else did he do?”

A deep frown creased his forehead, his gaze turning into an icy glare. “Hood did more.”

“What did he do?”

He was silent for a few heartbeats. He hesitated to tell her some minor details that had led him to despise Hood; then he made up his mind and spoke. “As a child, Robin of Locksley was a pesky little brat, spoiled and selfish. He always relished in making a parade of himself and a theatrical performance of everything he could do.” Leaning back in his chair, he, eyes lowered, let his hands slip down to his knees. “Hood took the greatest pleasure in showing off his archery skills.”

“Robin is a renowned marksman. His aim is deadly,” she said cautiously.

“Not always deadly.”

“No, Guy, he is exceptional with a bow,” she said vacantly.

“I assure you that it wasn’t always the case.” He let out a sneer.

Her heart beating faster in delight, Marian reminisced, “In childhood, Robin liked shooting arrows in Sherwood. He preferred to have a target practice in the early morning, at times at dawn. Much always accompanied Robin, his troublesome and mischievous master. I liked watching Robin practicing with his bow and often went to the woods with them. They came to Knighton Hall; Robin climbed to my window, waking me up. Then we ran to Sherwood, usually heading to the same clearing, our favorite place in the depths of the woods.” She smiled wistfully, regretting that those carefree days were long gone.

“I am not interested in your childhood memories about Hood.” Her words awakened jealousy and rage in him, for he again understood that Robin had a strong hold over his wife.

“I am sorry if my words brought negative emotions to you.”

He waved a dismissive hand, showing that he didn’t need her pity and concern. “Not a big deal.”

“I meant that I remember Robin’s target practice, and his aim was deadly,” she continued. “He also taught Much and me to shoot.”

Bitter laughter laced with notes of contempt rolled from his throat. “I have different memories of Hood and his skills with a bow; they are not sweet and pleasant as yours.” He fell silent, overwhelmed for a moment by the weight of a destiny that made Robin and him deadly foes. “You know nothing.”

“Then tell me everything,” she asked softly.

Guy sighed and broached the subject Marian raised; there was no other alternative. “My father, Sir Roger Fitzcorbet of Gisborne, went to fight in the Holy Land when Isabella and I were very young. Father was absent for many years, and we thought that he had been killed by the heathens,” he said in a steady voice, forcing the words to come out of his mouth.

“In the Holy Land?” she asked in a sour voice.

“Yes. My father spent many years there.” Suddenly, he threw back his head and laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” The words died on her lips, but he continued laughing.

“Do you know where Hood is now?”

She averted her gaze to hide her nervousness. “No.”

A wicked smile curved his mouth. “Hood is in the Holy Land,” he said after a short pause.

Marian swung her gaze to him. Her eyes widened; she was surprised. “How do you know?”

“Prince John told Vaisey about that. The hero ran away to his beloved king.” Guy smiled to himself. He never was such a fool as Hood was, and he would have never gone to fatuitous war. Then his face changed into a scowl, for he seemed to have the same reasoning as Hood; he remembered Hood’s words about the holy war spoken in short interludes during their one-to-one combat in the woods.

Marian clenched her teeth so tightly that she felt the pain clear up to her temples. A feeling of mingled anger and frustration transfixed her heart. She hated to talk about the Holy Land and the Crusades; she hated even a mere sound of the land’s name. All her thoughts of the Holy Land were always about Robin – his first departure more than seven years ago and his last escape to the same place. She was so angry that Robin had again gone to the wretched place. Also, Guy was right that the place magnetized knights to come and fight there, as if the desire to have a minute of crimson glory were driving them insane. Going to the Holy Land was an ultimately disastrous and equally futile choice, even if a knight went there out of loyalty to his liege; she couldn’t force herself to think otherwise.

For a long time, Marian sat in an utter silence. The seriousness on Guy’s face quickly expelled the uncertainty from her mind, and she knew that he wasn’t lying. “So Robin is not dead,” she said.

Guy nodded, sneering at her. “Yes. Back to his precious king.”

Marian clenched and unclenched her fists. "The king should have recalled him back if he went there.”

“I don’t care. I hope Hood dies in the Holy Land,” Guy snapped angrily.

She rolled her eyes. “So many people run to chase after glory in the Holy Land.”

Guy chuckled. “I find it impossible to understand why many brave and courageous knights go to the Holy Land to fight in the brutal holy war that can never be won. The first two Crusades were futile and fruitless. King Richard’s Crusade seems to be fairing no better.” He laughed. “Just imagine. You spend years and years fighting for a piece of land that can be lost to the Saracens tomorrow. You have a chance to die every minute and for nothing; just for a doubtful place in Heaven after you slain hundreds of the infidels in violent massacres and battles.”

“Knights die for God, for the Holy Land, and for the king. They also die for their fallen comrades."

He laughed. “But they die in most cases. They have a slim chance to survive.”

Marian nodded. “Yes.”

“The Crusaders are promised by the Pope that if they kill the infidels, they will automatically go to Heaven after all the atrocities they commit with their own hands,” Guy retorted with a sneer. “So they think that they don’t murder the people there. They are free of sin.”

“Of course, they kill,” she said numbly.

Guy laughed, with a touch of bitterness. “But Hood is still the king’s savior and the people’s hero. It doesn’t matter how many people he has already killed and will kill. He will always be a hero.”

Marian flinched at the coldness of his tone. “Your father also fought in the Holy Land and killed the Saracens,” she said, understanding Guy’s train of thought.

“My father killed the Saracens, but he paid a high price for his deeds. The Holy Land eventually sentenced my father to an inevitable death – he contracted leprosy there,” Guy said, his tone edged with notes of execration. “As I said, father spent many years in that cursed place, and we all thought that he had died there. One evening, father unexpectedly returned to Locksley, to our happiness and everyone’s surprise. Later we learned that the same land he had fought for became his long-waiting grave.” He paused, sighing in grief. “When he came, it was a day to commemorate the loss of lives in the Holy Land, as well as to celebrate the safe return of the surviving men, including my father.”

“What then?”

“As usual, Hood was showing off his archery skills. His talents nearly killed me.”

She blanched. “Nearly killed?”

“Yes.” He shuddered in rage and disdain, snapping his head up. “The stupid brat wanted to hit the lantern on the wheel with his arrows. He aimed and shot an arrow, but I snatched his white-etched arrow off his Saracen bow.” He clenched his fists. “But Hood had to continue showing himself off. He grabbed my black-etched arrow and nocked it before I could react again.” He laughed. “Do you know what happened?”

“The fire,” she assumed.

“Exactly!” Guy roared savagely. He brooded for an instant, then went on. “Robin’s reckless behavior caused the fire to break out. As a result, a priest was seriously injured.” He drew a deep, agonizing breath. “As it was my arrow that started the fire, Bailiff Longthorn pointed at me. Robin was out of suspicion.”

“What did Robin say?”

“Hood denied that it was, in fact, he who caused the fire. I was blamed for the incident and was almost hanged by the bailiff. I didn’t tell them the truth about the incident.”

“What?” She stiffened, fighting off a creeping fear to grasp what her husband meant.

“Hood didn’t come to my defense and lied,” Guy stated, his tone grave. “The opportunistic bailiff wanted to confiscate the Gisborne property for himself rather than let my mother, a young Norman lady, inherit everything from her dead husband. Bailiff Longhorn decided to hang me in order to get rid of the young Gisborne heir.”

Marian tossed her head, as if to shake a shadow of a doubt. “No, no, no,” she prattled fervently.

“It is true, Marian.”

Shock etched her features, she gasped for air. “No!” No other words erupted from her lips.

“Oh, it can’t be? Am I dreaming?” Guy sneered, parodying her thoughts as if he could read his mind. “The noble hero is not so noble in the end! But what a trifle it is! Such a small trifle! Hood can be forgiven because he is the savior of England and the nation!”

Marian scowled, her fists clenched, and her eyes flaming. She felt an overwhelming amount of sympathy to Guy and a great deal of reprehension towards Robin. She hankered to help Guy, to take away his pain, if only he allowed her to do that. She could give Guy her help, time, affection, friendship, and sympathy – all with the same generosity – and saw not the slightest reason why she shouldn’t give him all those things as freely as a wife was assumed to give her body to her husband. She couldn’t bear to see him suffer, especially when that suffering could be eased by warmth and love.

“But you were not hanged.”

“I was saved.”

“By whom?”

“By Sir Roger of Gisborne, my own father,” he answered. “He returned exactly on that day.”

Marian leaned forward and took his hand in hers, then put her palm over his. “I am sorry that you had to live through that,” she said in a low voice. “I am so sorry.”

Guy smiled sadly. “You shouldn’t apologize. It is not your fault.” He sneered with indignity. “It is only Hood’s fault.” His hatred for Robin thrived in his chest; venom dissolved in his bloodstream. “Hood was a filthy little toad in childhood. He will always be a deceitful little scum.”

Stung by the hatred in his contemptuous tone and appalled with his vocabulary, Marian unclasped their hands and took her hand away. “I don’t like what you say and the way you speak,” she reproached harshly.

Guy flinched as she broke the physical contact of their hands; the heaviness of despair came crushing down on him. Despite their recent conflict, Marian’s presence and proximity seemed divinely restful after the miseries of his empty life. He forgot about all his misery and could almost pretend that he forgave himself for treating people cruelly. Certainly, Marian could use all her charms to extract from him all the necessary information, even for Hood, manipulating and deceiving him. At the same time, she was the only woman who breathed vitality and humanity into his frozen heart; he wasn’t ready to lose her and his good chance to feel alive, even though he had known about her extramarital liaison with Robin Hood.

“I am sorry. I didn’t want to embarrass you.” Guy looked shamefaced.

Marian smiled kindly. “It is alright.”

Guy smiled flabbily. “Thank you.”

In the candlelight, they solemnly studied one another, and then Guy suddenly kissed her. It was a gentle kiss as well as a demanding one, suddenly morphed into passion. Eagerly, Marian opened her lips under the onslaught of desire, and he was kissing her until she melted against him. Her blood was pounding in her temples when Guy raised his head at last and looked into her eyes.

“Marian?” Guy murmured, his eyes searching her face.

“What?” She asked absently. She was lost, her world falling apart as reality was claiming her back.

For a moment, they stared at one another, and then Guy stepped aside, a sardonic look on his face; then he turned his back on her. Too many things lay unresolved between them, but, in spite of everything, they were slowly learning more about each another. The main shadow of the past – the memories of Robin of Locksley – stood between them and didn't perish yet.

Marian and Guy heard a fierce clap of thunder breaking somewhere outside. As if that were the signal, they looked at the window and caught in the yellow beam from the lightening. A perfect torrent of water descended with such violence that it seemed an earthquake was beginning.

Marian looked inquiringly at Guy. “Where is your sister Isabella? Is she dead?”

His whole body tensed for the words. “No, she is alive. She is married and lives in Shrewsbury.”

“Is she happy?”

He scoffed. “Why do you care?”

“I do care, Guy. I care for many people.”

“I cannot argue with that.”

“Answer my question,” she demanded.

Guy looked at her with the inscrutable expression in his eyes which always made her feel slightly uneasy. “When Isabella turned thirteen, I betrothed her to Squire Thornton. He is Vaisey’s relative, his distant cousin.” He trailed off and lowered his gaze, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself. “Isabella didn’t want to marry him, asking me to let her live with me. Yet, I forced her to marry the man.”

“Why?”

He glanced away. “I had to do that. I had to make Isabella marry that man. I couldn’t support my sister. We lived in poverty after we had left England.”

“Is she happy?”

“I don’t know whether Isabella loves him, but rest assured that she should be content. I am sure that she is well cared for."

“If your sister’s husband is Vaisey’s relative, I am not sure that he is better than the sheriff.”

“I wanted Isabella to be taken care of, and I also needed money for myself,” Guy explained. “Thornton paid me a huge amount of money, and, of course, I agreed to give him my sister’s hand in a marriage.”

“You sold your own sister to Vaisey’s relative,” she spelled out, startled by the depth of sadness and regret in her own voice and by the absence of disdain to Guy.

“Aren’t you disgusted with me?”

She gave him a wan smile. “I can try to understand.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you tell me about your life in France?”                                                         

“In Normandy,” he corrected. “It is a sad story.”

There was a short silence, unbroken by anything save the drumming of the rain on the roof and the moaning of the wind outside, as well as by the noises made by the servants at the manor.

Marian brooded in silence. What had happened to Guy and Isabella in Normandy? How had they survived? Why hadn’t Robin interfered and helped them? She wondered whether young Robin had felt some compassion for Guy and Isabella, who were his companions in distress as they had also lost their parents on that tragic night. After their banishment from Locksley, they had been two innocent youths, poverty-stricken, immature, and unprepared for the harshness of real life. Even if Robin had blamed Guy for starting the fire, Isabella had still been innocent.

She turned away from Guy; she could not help herself and started crying. Through a mist of tears which she couldn’t suppress even with tremendous effort, Marian looked at him, the visions of half-starved, thin, humble Guy flashing in her mind. She also imagined the young girl, also lean and small-boned. She feared to imagine their clothing – worn-out, dirty rags or cast-offs – as they succumbed to poverty. Isabella and Guy didn’t deserve to be trapped in the clutches of despair and abject poverty.

The face Marian turned to him was still wet with tears. “Why did you go to Normandy?”

“We had nowhere else to go and departed to Normandy. My mother, Lady Ghislaine de Bailleul, later Lady Ghislaine of Gisborne, was born there; she descended from the de Bailleul noble family. My mother’s relatives are rich Norman knights. They own the fiefs of Bailleul, Dampierre, Harcourt, Vinoy, and in several other places in Normandy.”

“But if your mother’s family is rich, why did you have to live in poverty?”

Guy glanced away. “My relatives accepted Isabella and me into their family. For a while, we lived in Bailleul castle, together with the other family members.” He let out a laugh, equally painful and ironic. “They were quite hospitable and charitable towards the poor English orphans until the news about my father’s leprosy and disgrace reached Normandy. As they learned about that, they were furious and threw us away from the castle into darkness and under a pelting autumn rain.”

“Are you serious?” She couldn’t believe that.

“Yes, I am.”

Marian barely suppressed a terrified scream. “Oh my Lord!”

“I still remember how they screamed over and over again that Roger of Gisborne’s children brought malady and death from England. My own grandmother – Lady Aegida de Bailleul – said that Isabella and I were cursed.” He relapsed into silence; his expression was tragic before turning unreadable. “She could have been right… I bring only misfortune and blood with myself.”

She sniffed in disgust. “This is abhorrent! You can cut out my tongue, torture, or kill me, but I will never understand how your own relatives might be so cruel.” She sighed. “Why did they do that, Guy?”

“There was one serious reason.” Guy sighed. All the memories of Ghislaine’s affair with King Henry always caused him only pain. He hesitated and was silent for a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you are not disappointed. I know that this is a complicated back story for Robin and Guy, much more complicated than on the show, but this is my style: mystery, originality, conflict, drama, and tragedy. I like original and unforgettable twists. As you see, here we have the dangerous triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy, and each of them has a certain connection to each another.
> 
> Of course, Robin and Guy know nothing about the dark mysteries of the past. Robin and Guy know the official version of the story: the fire at Gisborne Manor, the death of their parents in the fire, the banishment of the Gisborne offspring and Robin’s noninterference, the escape of Guy and Isabella to Normandy, and so on. They don’t suspect that the dark mysteries of the past pre-destined the tragedy of the Gisbornes and the Locksleys. As a result, they are wrong in blaming one another for the tragedy: Robin blames Guy for the death of his father and hates him since childhood, while Guy hates Robin and Malcolm for his banishment and misery. Robin and Guy don’t know that their hatred for each other is pointless. 
> 
> Cruel fate is laughing at Robin and Guy: they hate one another, not knowing that the major culprit of their misery is King Henry and, partly, Richard as he agrees to sacrifice Guy’s future to ensure Robin’s safety and give him a normal life of a nobleman. They even don’t know that Malcolm is alive and has been hiding for years, for only Queen Eleanor and Thornton know that.
> 
> The triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy comes across as a lethal combination! Robin is King Richard’s favorite and dearly loves the king, and he doesn’t suspect about their true relationship. Guy despises King Richard and thinks that Richard is the weak King who abandoned England and his people to fight in the foreign lands; he wants to kill the king for power and wealth, having no idea how closely he is related to the king and what role Richard played in his life.
> 
> The technical details about Malcolm’s affair with Queen Eleanor and about Robin’s birth will be given in the future chapters. I promise that you won’t have questions what they did to hide the fact of Robin’s parentage. The story about the assassination attempts on Robin’s life organized by Bailiff Longthorn will be given later. This is only the beginning of the story.
> 
> My Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine is different from the BBC’s queen. My Eleanor is crueler and more cunning, and she has her dark secrets of the past. My Eleanor is very clever and intelligent, cunning and conniving, cruel and pragmatic, cultured and witty; she possesses outstanding abilities to rule and govern, and she is an equal to any man in intellect, I would say, she is even superior to many men in terms of her intellectual abilities. In the future chapters, Eleanor will have a chance to show her political astuteness. Well, on the show we saw Eleanor only in one episode and there was no in-depth portrayal of the queen. I didn’t like the actress who played Queen Eleanor on the show as I think that Eleanor should be more regal and more exquisite. I liked Katharine Hepburn in the role of Queen Eleanor of Aquitainein the movie “The Lion in Winter”; I can easily imagine my Eleanor as Katharine Hepburn.
> 
> In the next chapter, Guy will tell Marian about his life in Normandy and his meeting with Vaisey, and it is quite a heartbreaking story. There will be some information about the background of Guy’s mother and her affair with King Henry. Take into account that King Henry never believed Ghislaine because of the vile rumors that the poor woman had several lovers simultaneously; it plays an important role in the tragedy of the Gisbornes.
> 
> There is an important twist in this story: Vaisey played an important role in the mysteries of the past, and soon you will learn about that. Vaisey is much more cunning and vile than you can ever imagine; when he hired Guy, he needed Guy and only Guy because he had a certain reason for that.
> 
> Archer knows the truth about his birth and origin, but, of course, he is not aware of Robin’s true parentage. Malcolm found his second son and told him the truth only about himself. Archer is angry and plans to take revenge on Robin. He is Prince John’s assassin, whom the prince discussed with Vaisey and Guy in Chapter 9.
> 
> Now try to imagine what will happen if Robin or Guy learns the truth. It will be quite a drama.


	11. A Tale about the Past

**Chapter 11**

**A Tale about the Past**

An eerie silence descended upon the room, the walls pressing over. Neither Guy nor Marian dared utter a word or make a sound, holding their breaths and trying to steady the wild beating of their hearts. All around them was only a deathlike silence that falls when all nature seems to hold its breath before some great calamity.

“Guy,” Marian called, breaking the silence.

Guy sighed. "Sorry, I was distracted," he said, a bitter smile of discontent on his face. “My grandmother, Lady Aegida de Bailleul, believed that her daughter – my mother – had disgraced the family and herself by marrying my father. My father was a mere knight in King Henry’s army. He wasn’t born an old noble family, either Norman or Saxon; his ancestors were knights but mainly peasants. Father had neither substantial fiefs nor wealth. Only after years of his long and loyal service to King Henry, Father was granted the Gisborne fiefdom in Nottinghamshire.”

 “Fealty to the rightful king may be rewarded, Guy,” she challenged, hinting at his loyalty to the wrong party – Sheriff Vaisey instead of King Richard.

“Some ladies spend enough time thinking about the matters of the heart.” It was a hint at her affair with Robin.

She felt herself blushing to the roots of her hair and blessed the semi-darkness which concealed it. “Many ladies, especially French, have many affairs. The tale of their lovers might be endless.”

Guy was both angry and indignant at her last words, struggling to keep his temper. “You cannot guess how lethal the aim of your sarcastic comment was.”

“Why?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“My mother indulged herself into scandalous extramarital relationships,” Guy said antipathetically.

“Oh!” She raised an eyebrow.

He sighed in reluctant agreement. “Before and during my mother’s marriage to my father.”

Marian blushed, feeling slightly ruffled. “If your mother had an affair with your father, there is absolutely no problem in that. They were married at last.”

Guy burst into a laugh, an evil laugh. “My mother had been King Henry’s mistress before she married my father. I once asked mother about her rumored relationship with King Henry, and she confirmed it; she said that she married father in six months after her affair with the old king was over.” He sighed. “Henry set sights on her on the ball in Rouen. She was a young, beautiful lady, with large, steel blue eyes and long gorgeous hair, which shone as a raven’s wing and needed no adornment. The old philanderer wanted a young, fresh maiden, so he wooed her.” His mouth twisted in contempt. “How could she reject the king? Kings always get what they want.”

“King Henry was the most inveterate womanizer,” she murmured matter-of-factly.

“No doubt.”

“How did she meet your father?”

“My mother wasn’t courted by him. After the king had discarded her, she could either join a convent or be quickly married off to an undemanding knight. As she had no wish to become a nun, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine chose my father to be her husband.”

“A husband in exchange for being a mistress,” Marian retorted, with a cheerless laugh. “What a token of gratitude from the king!”

“From the queen,” Guy corrected. “King Henry didn’t care about my mother’s fate. It was Queen Eleanor who arranged a marriage for Mother. The Queen Mother was rather fond of mother and didn’t hate her for being King Henry’s mistress.”

“It was noble from the queen’s side.”

With an enigmatic little smile, Guy spoke. “Definitely, it was a noble act, considering that many of King Henry’s mistresses had a fate worse than death as they were displayed as the king’s trophy, then discarded and left unmarried and in shame; they were also persecuted by Queen Eleanor.” A scoff escaped his lips. “It is rumored that Henry’s great love, Lady Rosamund de Clifford, was poisoned by Queen Eleanor. Not a gaudy lot.”

“It is a lie,” Marian objected. “Queen Eleanor didn’t poison her. I was told that the Fair Rosamund wasn’t poisoned and died from natural causes. She retired to the nunnery at Godstow, near Oxford, shortly before her death.”

Guy frowned. He cursed Hood, who was the most likely person to talk about such nonsense with Marian. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe; absolutely true.”

“As you wish,” he conceded, huffing out a breath of disgruntlement.

“My mother’s affair with King Henry was quite scandalous and tarnished her reputation. In addition, later my mother also had a secret liaison with another man. It happened when she believed that my father was dead; I learned about that by chance.”

“Who was that second man?”

Anger surged through Guy; he hated Malcolm of Locksley with all his heart. Balling his hands into fists, he held the fury in. He didn’t intend to tell her the whole truth. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t ask me.”

“Fine.”                                                                         

“My grandmother considered mother an immoral woman, lacking in piety.”

“Don’t remember your grandma. It is understandable that your mother was unlikely to refuse the King of England,” she said soothingly.

“I don’t blame my mother. I blame only King Henry,” Guy said, a rich note of disrespect towards the royal position and authority. “A young maiden, a person of pure morals, not an intriguer or a hypocrite, is not someone who has influence over a king and who has received many honors from him. At court, all maidens must observe and deal with many things that might tarnish their innocence; yet, but they still can keep it if they are lucky to avoid royal attention. But if they are wooed by a mighty king who cares only about himself and his sinful desires, they cannot remain chaste. Debauchery and lust cast an inexpressible spell on them, and it is not their fault.”

 “How did you survive in Normandy?” Marian asked Guy after a long pause.

Another silence followed, more oppressive, almost lethal.

Guy turned very pale, but his eyes were bright with barely suppressed anger as his mind drifted back to the doleful moments of his early youth in Normandy. His boyhood had been sweet and promising, but it had ended in darkness, blood, and horror. Guy had survived through a living hell after the banishment from Locksley; his heart was filled with hatred and thirst for vengeance. And now, when he had to tell Marian the truth, he felt nothing, save heart-wrenching pain and grief.

Guy sighed, and his baritone broke the silence. “After our relatives sent us away, we lived like vagabonds, roaming around Normandy and suffering in the most abject and degrading poverty. The first two years were the most difficult time in our exile as we had no money and no food, and we starved. I worked as a home servant and also helped farmers to cultivate lands in several estates, but we didn’t stay for long anywhere. Instead, we almost crisscrossed Normandy and Anjou, enduring the discomfort of vagrancy, rides over mud-rutted roads, and dampness of the servant quarters at the wretched old castles.”

“And what about Isabella?”

“Isabella was sullen and reserved since the day when our parents had died. She proved to be capable of adapting to the new conditions. We languished in poverty for several years, living with the only hope to get a little job that could help us survive. In the most difficult and unfortunate moments, we... we…” He stammered, uncomfortable with his memories. “There were times when we had to spend nights on streets, when we put what we had from the warm clothes on the bare earth and tried to take some rest, snuggling to each other to keep some warmth,” he said, his voice quiet and deadly.

Dread swept over Marian. “Holy Mother of God!”

“There were better nights even in the most difficult time; it was an extreme example. Often, we found shelter in the convents where we were fed and sheltered by the monks,” he added.

Her face was white, her expression shocked. “It is so unfair! It is awful!”

Guy shrugged dismissively. “Life is rarely fair. Sorry if my tale depressed you.”

“Drop your apologies. There is nothing to forgive.”

He smiled. “I blessed fate when I met Sir Roger de Tosny, Baron de Conches.”

“The de Tosny family?”

“Yes.” Guy gave a slight nod. “The de Tosny family is the powerful and old family of the Norman nobles, who obtained their lands from significant grants of lands from Robert I, the Duke of Normandy, a Norse Viking who lived in the 9th century and was the first ruler of Normandy. If I am not mistaken, the de Tosny family was somehow distantly related to Robert I. The de Tosny nobles possess the great wealth they acquired from foreign adventures in Iberia at the beginning of the 11th century.” He cleared his throat. “Sir Roger de Tosny holds a rich estate in Conches-en-Ouches, in Upper Normandy. Many years ago, I helped to make repairs and cultivate lands at one of his estates, and he liked me. Roger told me that I had a potential to be a great warrior, and he offered me to serve as his squire. Our life improved dramatically after I had accepted his offer.”

“Did you bid de Tosny your farewell?”

“Yes, I left Roger and was immediately employed by Vaisey.” He lifted his weary shoulders. “Roger was a good and generous master, and the fees for my services were very high, much higher than other squires were paid. Isabella and I lived in his castle in Conches. We were not lapped in great luxury, but we didn’t starve, had good clothes, and needed nothing.”

“At least your life was much better there.”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “Roger fancied Isabella for quite some time, and I dreamt that he would court her. Roger’s Aunt, Ida de Tosny, was King Henry’s mistress too; she gave birth to the king’s illegitimate son, William Longespée, the Earl of Salisbury.”

“Another royal mistress,” Marian said, shaking her head.

“King Henry is mostly well-known for his outrageous love affairs, his countless fathered bastards, Queen Eleanor’s imprisonment, and his failure to achieve peace with his legitimate sons,” Guy murmured floutingly, a sardonic smirk curving his lips.

“Don’t dramatize, Guy. King Henry wasn’t the worst king. He created the Angevin Empire. He also brought peace in England after the long years of chaos and economic depression stemming from the struggle for power.”

“Ah, how I could have forgotten!” He mocked the memory of the deceased king whom he deeply loathed.

She sighed heavily. She had finally understood the roots of Guy’s disrespect to the royal authority.

“Why did you leave Sir Roger?”

Guy lowered his head, staring at the floor. “The de Tosny family members own not only lands and estates, but they are also well-known tradesmen and are extremely capable in business. Roger knows how to outwit the trickiest businessmen and traders in Normandy, Anjou, Maine, and Aquitaine.” He laughed bitterly. “While I worked for Roger, I always watched how he used his business talent, and I envied him. As Roger paid me more than enough, perhaps even too much, I tried to do some business with taverns and shipments.” He let out a heavy sigh of frustration. “I failed to manage it successfully.” At last, he faced her gaze. “I gambled, trying to win money to pay my debt down, but I was running into more and more debt with every game.”

She put a hand on her mouth. “Did you ask Sir Roger for help?”

“No, I didn’t. I was embarrassed that I would disappoint him. So I kept silent and continued in the same way. Soon I was captured in the debt hole and didn’t know what to do. My major lender would have probably killed me if he hadn’t seen how I had been fighting at a tournament in Rouen.”

“What did you do then?”

His expression turned melancholic. “Roger fought at the tournament in Rouen, and I went there with him. He knew nothing about my problems and worries. As the tournament began, Roger took part in the competition, but he was severely injured by his opponent.” He trailed off, the bloody pictures flickering in his mind. “Roger was skewered through his chest and fell on his hands and knees, clutching his wound and coughing with blood. He was carried away from the field. Unexpectedly, I was given a chance to try myself instead of my master; I agreed and unexpectedly won.”

Marian stared at Guy, her gaze sharp pointed knives. “How did you meet the sheriff?”

A chill ran down his spine as Guy recalled those dreadful days when Vaisey had almost murdered him. The fear, tough and oppressive, had been buried in his heart since those days. “ _Lord Peter Vaisey watched the same tournament which I won_.” He laughed bitterly. “Besides, _Vaisey was my major lender_. I still don’t know how he managed to buy my outstanding debt from all the other lenders and why he needed that.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “At times, I think that Vaisey deliberately purchased my debt to corner me later and force me to work for him.”

“Why do you think so?”

"I don't know, Marian. It is just my intuition."

“How did Vaisey corner you?”

“As I said, the sheriff somehow bought my debt from all the men whom I lost at least some money at the card table. After the tournament in Rouen, Vaisey found me and asked for a minute of privacy. He humiliated me and then showed me my debt debentures. Then Vaisey threatened to kill me if I didn’t repay the debt in three days. Of course, I didn’t redeem my debt to him because Roger was very sick and unconscious, barely clinging to life. Nobody could help me, and I was at Vaisey’s mercy.”

“What did this monster do to you?”

“Do you really want to know the rest of the story, Marian?”

“Yes.”

A resigned Guy began his doleful story. “I came to Vaisey’s place, his friend’s mansion in the center of Rouen. As I couldn’t give my debt back, Vaisey said that I can either die a slow, painful death or become his squire. He warned that there would be a lot of dirty work, implying that I would have to kill at his order.” He sighed again. “Naturally, I treasured my life and agreed. On the same evening, Vaisey tested me.” Another sigh followed. “I had to kill a man.”

“Did you kill him?”

“I did,” he replied in a hollow voice.

“Who was he?” she asked numbly.

“That man was Sir William III de Saye, one of young Prince Richard’s friends and Queen Eleanor’s loyal supporters. At that time, Vaisey began a large and rigorous campaign aimed at liquidating the knights who were loyal to those who induced the rebellion of 1173 – Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine and her sons Henry the Young, Richard, Geoffrey, and John. If you remember the chronology of events, Henry the Young fled to Paris and launched the revolt against King Henry in 1173. Richard, Geoffrey, and even John joined their eldest brother against their father. The rebellion failed next year, and Queen Eleanor was captured and arrested.”

“Later Vaisey would be against King Richard and at Prince John’s side,” she noted.

“Vaisey has always targeted mainly those who swore fealty to the Queen Mother and Richard Plantagenet; de Saye was Richard’s knight, not John’s.”

“What next?”

“Vaisey eagerly observed the scene of the murder,” Guy reminisced about the events of that fateful night, silently cursing himself so much for doing loads of bloody tasks for the sheriff. “It was a warm spring night when Sir William de Saye alone rode through the moonlit Forest of Rouvray, secure in the knowledge that the route was safe enough as it was patrolled by the guards of the local sheriff. We stopped him and I killed him.” He closed his eyes as a wave of shame overcame him. “The murder of Sir William de Saye happened very quickly. I shot an arrow in his horse, and he was thrown off to the ground. The knight got to his feet and looked around while I came closer to him in the darkness. De Saye didn’t see me as I attacked him from the back. I stabbed him in the left side, turned him around, and then plunged my sword into his chest, right into his heart. He died almost instantly.”

Marian cringed as she imagined the scene of the bloody murder. “And what did the sheriff do?”

A terribly ashamed Guy glanced away. “As the knight drew his last breath, Vaisey appeared from behind the tree, with a malicious sneer on his face, and ordered me to behead the dead man. I hesitated for quite some time, and then Vaisey… he threatened to kill me if I didn’t chop off the head of the knight.”

“Did you do that?”

“I had to.”

“Revolting,” Marian spat.

Guy caught a strand of his black hair and forced it back behind his ear. “As I hesitated even after he had intimidated me, Vaisey said that he would teach me a lesson of obedience and subordination. I didn’t think that he was serious, but Vaisey drew his sword and lunged at me while I stood over the knight’s body, shocked with what I had done. Vaisey stabbed me in my left shoulder and lunged at me again, threatening to kill me on the spot if I didn’t behead the corpse.” He trailed off as he could scarcely breathe in terror which he felt every time he remembered his first killing.

“Did the sheriff harm you more?”

“No, he didn’t,” Guy replied. “To save myself, I did what he ordered. Ignoring the pain from my wound, I crouched and beheaded de Saye’s body.” His jaw clenched. “The head tumbled and rolled over the ground. Vaisey howled with laughter. Then he picked up the head and started playing with it. He brought the head right to my face, laughing and saying that he would teach me how to kill and enjoy bloodshed.”

“Vaisey is a sadistic madman! His crime is twofold than yours,” she said, her voice shaking.

Guy clenched his fists as helpless rage over came him. There were moments when he hated the sheriff with fierce passion. “It was the first time when I killed a man in cold blood.”  His mouth tightened. “Vaisey praised my fighting skills with a sword. He paid me only a little, not enough to support Isabella and myself. When I complained, he reminded me of the debt he had pardoned me. In two months after our first meeting in Rouen, Vaisey introduced me to Squire Thornton, who married Isabella and took her to England.”

“Bastard! Monster!” she fired.

Guy smiled at a fuming Marian. He liked her in anger, which was a strange feeling, he admitted; however, he wasn’t the only one who liked an angry Marian. He continued, "We spent the next five years traveling between England, Normandy, Anjou, and Aquitaine, participating in tournaments and killing. Vaisey confessed that he worked for Prince John and said that he would be given the post of Sheriff of the County of Essex. We went to Essex and spent several years there. After King Richard had been crowned and then had left for the Holy Land, Prince John deposed Sir Edward and appointed Vaisey the sheriff of Nottingham; soon we left Essex and came to Nottingham."

 “And then you started your sacred mission of taking back what you had lost,” she inferred.

“You are right. Vaisey had promised me power long before we came to Nottingham. I was his right-hand man.” He grinned portentously. “Sometimes, the sheriff compares me with a son.”

A perplexed Marian gasped. “Heaven forbid having such a father!”

Guy burst into laughing. “Don’t say this, Marian!”

“Oh, stop laughing! It is not funny!” The last thing she felt like doing was laughing.

“You are funny now,” he pointed out, a lackluster smile curving his lips.

 “Did your friend, Sir Roger de Tosny, recover from his injury?” Marian asked after a long pause.

“He recovered in six months or so.” Guy smiled at the thought of his long-lost friend’s survival; he was worried about him at that time. “It was a matter of sheer luck that his injury was non-lingering.”

“Have you ever regretted leaving Sir Roger’s service?”

“Yes, I have.” Guy’s cold look transformed to an alleviated one. “I miss Roger. I liked him.”

“What did he do after you left him?”

Guy tossed his head, as if he still hadn’t believed in what he had known about Roger. “When Vaisey and I lived in Essex, I heard from one of the Knights Templar that Roger de Tosny had become very close to the immediate heir to the throne, at that time Prince Richard. Later, when I was at Prince John’s court, I learned that Roger had joined King Richard on the Crusade.”

Marian stared at him, perplexed and dumbfounded. “Ah! Another holy warrior!”

“Perhaps, Roger is still fighting alongside the king in Acre.” His tone was edged with amusement.

“He might be dead.”

“Two years ago Roger de Tosny was alive, and one of the king’s finest warriors, I would say.”

A dark shadow crossed her face. “How do you know that Sir Roger was alive?”

“I saw Roger in the king’s camp.” His demeanor abruptly changed.

Marian didn’t need to ask anything else; Guy had seen Roger de Tosny in Acre when he had attacked the Crusaders’ camp and had attempted to assassinate King Richard. She hoped that he hadn’t wounded the man. Given the favorable past connection between Roger and Guy, de Tosny could have become a valuable asset, she noted. “I understand.” She sighed.

“That night, there were very few Crusaders awake in the camp.” He didn’t clarify that Vaisey’s spy had removed a half of the night guard to guarantee that the attack would be unexpected and undetected. “Roger de Tosny was one of those few King’s guards. I saw him locked in a fierce fight with one of the assassins. Then Hood appeared from his tent and started shooting arrows at the other Saracens, while his annoying manservant was running around, giving an alarm notice.”

Marian grimaced as she envisioned the fight. “I hope that you didn’t attack Sir Roger.”

Guy looked at her as if she were out of her mind. “Never say that! I would have never caused any harm to Roger. Roger wasn’t injured in that attack.” He smiled smugly. “Hood’s arrows had killed four assassins before I stopped him, although he saved the king a little later.”

Suddenly, hot anger stirred in her heart. “You didn’t attack Sir Roger, but you attacked and wounded Robin from the back, not in a fair fight.” Her tone was cold and accusing, her gaze blank.

“It is different.”

“Not so much, Guy.”

“Hood’s case is exceptional.”

“Oh, Guy…” She would try to talk to him later, knowing that now it would be a waste of time.

He took a deep breath, his heart racing. “Roger is one of the few people whom I could consider close to a friend. I would never hurt him.”

“Sir Roger should know Robin if he went to the Holy Land,” Marian admitted.

“It goes without saying,” Guy growled. “Roger de Tosny is a prominent member of the king’s private guard and a Knight Templar. He is also King Richard’s favorite, though he has never been in such a high favor as Hood. Now Hood is in Acre and if Roger is still there, then Hood is his commander.”

Marian was stunned; sometimes, life gave many surprises. “Oh,” she breathed.

“I don’t understand why he is fighting in the Holy Land, but it is his choice.” Sighing heavily, he lurched to his feet.

“You are leaving me?”

“I am tired after a long journey. Goodnight, Marian. Go and get some rest.” He turned away and moved towards the door.

Guy felt strangely relieved that he had shared his tragic story with Marian; he also hoped that his story would blacken Hood’s name and drive Marian away from her former lover. Marian was confused and lost; she had a lot to think about. Indeed, they both had much to think about. But there was a tale of love, danger and tragic death which had been buried into the earth a long, long time ago, and they didn’t know the whole truth about Robin’s fate and the conflict between Roger, Ghislaine, and Malcolm. The element of tragedy had already wrought itself into the coarse and hateful emotions of the leather-clad man, but perhaps there still was something better than anger and despondency for Guy.

§§§

The next morning, Guy attended the Council of Nobles with the standard agenda – the upcoming increase in taxes. Marian chose to stay in Locksley, feeling tired and unwell. As usual, Allan attended the Council, sitting at Guy’s left; he found all such meetings boring, but Guy ordered him to be there, and he obeyed. Many lords all over Nottinghamshire were there; they all always voted for all of Vaisey’s decisions and unquestionably supported his policy of brutal terror in the shire.

At the beginning of the meeting, the sheriff greeted young Lord William Loughborough, who had returned to Nottingham from Acre two days ago and resumed the activities of the Lord of the Manor after his father’s recent death. William served King Richard in the Holy Land for five years, and he knew Robin of Locksley quite well as they had been born in the same shire and had met him on the Crusade; he had joined the Crusade only in two years after the king’s departure to the Holy Land.

The sheriff smiled. “Lords and ladies, King Richard needs money to finance the conquest of Jerusalem! It is our duty to help our beloved king who is fighting with the Saracens and will be soon besieging Jerusalem.” He outstretched his hands. “The next increase in property taxes for landlords is introduced next week. The peasants will have to pay twice more this month. The funds will be collected by Gisborne next weekend. Those who cannot pay will be punished.”

Lord William Loughborough cleared his throat to attract attention to himself. “Lord Vaisey, I am sorry, but I am confused. I have just returned from Acre, and I assure you that King Richard doesn’t plan to push his army towards Jerusalem. I have heard that the king wants to make peace with Saladin.”

“Lord Loughborough, you were a common soldier. How can you know what our king wants? You are not a mind-reader,” Vaisey countered.

The young man looked insulted. “You are misinformed, Lord Vaisey. During the last three years, I served as the second-in-command to Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, in the second guard of the king’s own forces.”

“Congratulations,” Vaisey muttered with a scornful smile.

The sheriff knew that the Earl of Leicester was the king’s highly favored general, and if Loughborough was his second-in-command, then the Crusader was King Richard’s staunch supporter. The Crusader was young, insolent, and arrogant, and he obviously thought that he had returned cloaked in glory from the Holy Land and, thus, must be treated as a bright star in England, too. The newcomer was a problem for the sheriff.

“Lord Leicester is the king’s close friend and confident, and he knows what the king plans; he told me that they would try to make peace,” Loughborough explained. “Why do you want to increase taxes if the king is working for peace and has already dispatched some Crusaders with commendation, letting them return home? The people cannot afford to pay taxes; they will die if they pay the amount of money you demand.”

Vaisey narrowed his eyes at the young man. “You are disloyal to King Richard, Lord Loughborough. Shame on you! You are a holy warrior and you took the Cross, and yet you defy our king.”

“I am loyal to King Richard,” Loughborough protested. “I will never side with anyone who attempts to steal the throne from our rightful king.” He raised his chin. “My point is that the villagers cannot pay more taxes. I cannot give what I don’t have and won’t have in the next three months at least.”

“You will have to pay, Sir William, and it is your trouble where you will find money. Otherwise, you will be dispossessed,” Vaisey threatened.

An uncomfortable silence stretched out. The nobles hung their heads.

Loughborough abruptly rose to his feet, sweeping his eyes over the nobles who stiffened and hung their heads in fear mingled with shame. “My Lord Sheriff, are you going to outlaw me in the same way as Sir Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon, captain of the king’s private guard, Hero of Acre, and King Richard’s close friend and savior?”

“Fool! Stupid, stupid man!” Guy muttered to himself. He clenched his fists as anger coursed through him at the mention of Hood’s status and position.

"Oh, the man is gonna get into trouble," Allan whispered.

Vaisey furrowed his brows. “Loughborough, I am the sheriff here. Hood is a dangerous criminal. He must be captured and hanged for his crimes and murders.” He was pleased that the newcomer chose an open confrontation; he would have more lands for himself after the Crusader’s death.

“I assure you that King Richard has a different opinion,” Loughborough asserted.

“War turned Hood’s mind inside out. He went mad and turned against the law, against his sheriff,” Vaisey parried, narrowing his eyes at William. “It seems that you, my boy, became the victim of the sun in the Holy Land: your brains were cooked, and now you cannot think at all.” He laughed. “Did you have a heatstroke there before you left Acre?”

“My lord, Sir Robin and I are not mad,” Loughborough pointed out. “Well, you may dispossess me or outlaw me, but King Richard will reinstate my lands on my name.”

“My dear boy, you are very bold… and audacious, and I like bold boys so much!” The sheriff sneered. “Your passionate speeches about Robin Hood… are dangerous and suspicious. Are you conversing with this criminal and his gang? Are you with him and against the law?”

Loughborough shook his head. “I am not a traitor, and neither is the Earl of Huntingdon. I haven’t seen Huntingdon since he left Acre more than two years ago.”

“He is not the Earl of Huntingdon,” Gisborne interjected.

“Gisborne is right,” the sheriff continued, looking at Loughborough. “Hood renounced his birthright to live among the civilized people when he defied me, his sheriff. His place is in the dungeons.”

Loughborough laughed. “My lord, with all my due respect to you and your authority, I think you did a wrong thing when you offended the Earl of Huntingdon. Huntingdon has the highest royal favor, and he really deserved it. King Richard will be… very displeased that you outlawed his friend and the man whom he owes his life many times over. The king will sign his pardon with closed eyes.”

The nobles cast their eyes down. Nobody dared look at Vaisey and Guy.

Vaisey smacked his lips. “Loughborough, you need lessons… of proper behavior.” He smiled. “And don’t forget to prepare many coins to pay the taxes.”

“Lord Vaisey, my village has no money at all, and I cannot pay; I have almost no funds to support the manor after the payment of taxes last month. People in the shire and in my village are starving and dying; many of them are cripples; some are so weak that they are hardly able to stand from their beds.” Loughborough’s voice was edged with barely hidden anger.

“My boy, you were not here for many years. Everything changed – everything, my dear boy. Your father should have been stricter to the peasants. They are very lazy... and they don’t work much, and, as a result, you don’t have money,” the sheriff said with a large smile.

Loughborough was appalled with the sheriff’s manners; he despised the old man. “My lord, I am not your boy. And I am not lying that _I cannot pay your taxes – not the king’s taxes_.” Bowing slightly, he turned around and headed to the exit from the chamber.

The sheriff’s lips pulled back in a predatory smile. Lord William Loughborough signed his death warrant. Vaisey was delighted that the man hadn’t intercepted Hood on the way to Acre, for he clearly didn’t know that Robin was back in the Holy Land. The old Lord Loughborough had supported the sheriff, but it could not be the case with his son. William’s return to Nottingham posed a serious threat to Vaisey’s calm life as the young man’s loyalty to King Richard was unwavering and, most importantly, he openly challenged the sheriff.

Vaisey turned his gaze at Guy and nodded at him, wordlessly signaling to get rid of Lord William Loughborough. Guy nodded back, feeling thoroughly disgusted with the entire situation. The sheriff continued chatting about the Crusade and the planned increase in taxes, and Guy tried to listen, but he wasn’t attentive. Guy felt that he was sickened with everything around him; Vaisey’s order to kill the annoying Crusader irritated him, but he knew that very soon he had to carry out the command.

Vaisey’s order to kill the unfortunate lord again reminded Guy of the times when he started serving his master. The images of the people’s corpses – the bodies of his victims – flashed in his mind. He again remembered his first killing in the Forest of Rouvnay, as well as the bloodbath Vaisey had given him in the city of Angers. He knew that he would be haunted by all those images forever, and there was nothing that could stop his torments.

Many years ago, Vaisey and Gisborne had traveled to Angers from Rouen where Guy had just left Roger de Tosny. Vaisey had commanded Guy to kill five knights who had sworn their allegiance to Prince Richard. They had spent in Angers about two weeks, searching for those knights and killing them in cold blood. The sheriff had killed only one of those unfortunate men, leaving the rest for Guy and laughing that he would give his new squire bloodbath in Angers. Vaisey had kept his promise: Guy would never forget that horror until his dying breath.

Angers was notably highlighted by the Saint-Aubin Island situated north of the center and covering a large part of the city’s total surface. Protected, the island was formed of swamps and natural meadows. Vaisey had pretended that he had been Prince Richard’s messenger and invited the knights on the meeting on the Saint-Aubin Island. Vaisey had somehow had a fake message from Prince Richard, stamped with a fake seal that was identical to Richard’s real seal. Guy still wondered how Vaisey had managed to produce fakes messages and letters of exceptionally high quality.

As dusk had begun to fall, Vaisey and Guy had hidden in the bushes near the road and had waited for the knights to ride to the supposed meeting place. As they had noticed four dark shadows on the road, Vaisey had ordered Guy to release a tornado of arrows at the men, but not killing them outright. As they had been hiding almost at the roadside and the distance for a shot had been small, so Guy could have easily killed those warriors even though he had never been deadly with a bow. Guy had obeyed and released several arrows from Vaisey’s longbow. The arrows had struck two men in their flanks and the two other men in their thighs, and several arrows had hit the horses, frightening the animals. The horses had bolted and the knights had slipped from their saddles to the ground.

As four knights had been ambushed, Vaisey had commanded Guy to kill everyone. The sheriff had wanted Guy to chop off the heads of the two men, the arm of another one, and all the fingers of the fourth knight. As these thoughts bolted through his mind, Guy was more horrified than on the night when he had killed his first victim in the Forest of Rouvray. It was difficult to imagine that the wounded men could have been killed so ignominiously and so cruelly by anyone, all the more by him.

In Angers, Guy hadn’t wanted to kill those men, but Vaisey had reminded him of the huge debt he had pardoned him, threatening to kill him if he had dared disobey him. Vaisey had also menaced that he would teach Guy a lesson by doing something to young Isabella if Guy hadn’t complied with his order. Isabella had impatiently waited for her brother at the inn, not knowing why they had arrived in Angers and what Guy had been obliged to do for his new master.

Vaisey’s words about Isabella had had an immediate impact on Guy. Guy had climbed to his feet, determined to kill; he had unsheathed his broadsword and advanced forward, towards the moaning knights. Guy could still remember how he had approached one of the wounded men, had crouched at his level, and then had beheaded his victim with one blow. He could still remember the mortal terror in the green eyes of that knight who had called Guy a bloody bastard before death had come to him.

Looking at their would-be murderer, the knights had begun panicking, trying to escape. But everyone had been doomed to die on the spot as Guy mechanically had been performing Vaisey’s wishes. Guy had beheaded the second knight; then he had murdered the third one by slicing him in his chest and then chopping off his right arm. He had killed the fourth warrior by plunging the sword into the man’s heart, but he had been unable to chop off his ten fingers.

Then Vaisey had appeared in sight, laughing at Guy, full of pleasure he always felt from bloodshed. The sheriff had forced his young squire to watch how he had expertly cut five fingers of the dead man. Saying that he had wished to give Guy a couple of important, valuable lessons of killing, Vaisey had offered Gisborne to finish the job, and Guy had obeyed. As Guy had finished the task, he had watched Vaisey lift the bloody head of one of the knights and play with it, smiling with sheer malice. At that moment, Guy had vomited the contents of his stomach on the ground.

In Angers, Guy had also parted his ways with Isabella as she had been hastily married off to Squire Thornton. The bloody experience in Angers had taught Guy to kill in cold blood – to kill automatically and brutally. He had become a murderer. He had no longer been the old Guy, well-behaved and gentle and hoping for the bright future. Guy had mourned the deaths of those knights whom he had murdered on the Saint-Aubin Island as if he had lost his own parents then. He had also mourned for himself, for the loss of his happy boyhood and for the loss of his innocence and naivety. Since then, Guy had stepped into the darkness together at Vaisey’s right-hand man.

Guy and Allan mounted their horses outside the castle, intending to go to Locksley. Guy’s expression was gloomy, his eyes dark and angry, for his spirits plummeted when Vaisey signaled him to kill the ex-Crusader; he didn’t want to kill the innocent man, but he had to do that. Allan noticed Guy’s mood swing, knowing the reason for his master’s bad mood in advance.

“Guy, what did the sheriff order you to do?” Allan asked as he climbed into the saddle.

Guy shot him a discontented look. “Do you really want to know that, Allan?” He spurred the horse in its flanks and rode away; Allan followed him, together with the sea of his armed men.

“Well, I was just curious,” Allan said, a little offended.

“Ask no questions and hear no lies,” Guy answered rhetorically.

Allan was silent for a while as they rode, but then he put in his word, saying: “The sheriff wants you to kill Lord Loughborough.” He sighed heavily. “Are you going to obey?”

“Curiosity and humanity are not virtues,” Guy said between clenched teeth; he said the same what Vaisey told him throughout many years just because he didn’t know what else to say to his right-hand man. “If you want to keep your head, be silent and never ask me such questions again.”

“Sorry, mate,” Allan said neutrally. He pitied Guy a great deal at that moment, wondering whether the man whom he had grown to like quite a lot would ever be able to break free from Vaisey.

“Remember what I said.” Guy didn’t want Allan to ever ask him additional questions about his deals with the sheriff because it brought negative memories back to life. It was already enough that Marian forced him to tell her the truth about his past. He preferred to leave some details of his tragic biography unsaid because it was easier to ignore his own faults and pretend that he could have escaped from the demons that were tearing his heart apart.

Guy was tracking down Lord William Loughborough during the next several days. He knew that he had to kill the man, even if he felt uncomfortable with the sheriff’s order. After another Council of Nobles, Guy went after Loughborough, intending to finish off the arrogant and irritating Crusader. He ordered Allan to stay in the castle and wait for his return; he needed nobody else to witness the murder.

Vaisey's rancorous voice made Guy stop at the doorway. Guy turned around, staring at the sheriff’s haughty face as the old man grinned, revealing yellow, rotting teeth in the front and one jeweled tooth. Vaisey beckoned Guy to approach him, his eyes scanning his henchman from top to toe, his gaze lingering at the sword on Guy’s waist, his broad chest, and his muscular shoulders.

“Gisborne, I hope you will do your job well. I want Lord Loughborough dead today and not a day later,” Vaisey said with a hidden threat in his voice. “I have seen little of the old Guy in you since you married your little leper wife. You have not been feeling ill, and you have nothing to justify yourself.”

“No, I haven’t been ill,” Guy replied distantly.

The sheriff answered with a horrible, sneering laugh. “Gisborne, you have been busy with your wife. If you continue being so besotted by this leper, soon you will be unable not only to kill but also to fight and be a man.” He laughed again. “Or are you going to become a sissy, Gizzy? There is some rhythm between Gizzy and sissy.” Then his expression turned serious. “Don’t let me down today, my boy. I want Loughborough dead. I don’t need King Richard’s passionate supporters in Nottingham.”

“It will be done, my lord.” The henchman bowed his head, as if putting it through a noose.

Vaisey’s words were like a ringing slap. Guy was again humiliated and had to swallow his injured pride. Besides, today he had to obey and kill the Crusader as there was a clear warning in the sheriff’s words. He feared that Vaisey would cause harm to Marian if he had betrayed or failed his master. It was because of the necessity to protect Marian and himself from the sheriff that he would kill today again.

Determined to carry out his master’s command, Guy went out of the castle and mounted his black stallion in the courtyard; alone, without guards, he rode towards the village of Loughborough, through Sherwood, watching his future victim riding ahead. As soon as they reached the edge of the forest, Guy spurred on his horse and soon reached Loughborough, who noticed him and stopped. Thinking that Guy wanted to talk about something, the man dismounted without fear.

“Sir Guy, how can I help you?” Lord William Loughborough raised a quizzical brow.

Guy also dismounted and strode towards the other man. “Nothing.”

Guy drew his sword and made a movement to lunge at the younger man, who reacted immediately and struck him in the jaw. William pinned Guy to the ground, trying to grab his sword arm and disarm him, but he couldn’t reach out for Guy. Guy was impervious to the pain the other man had caused him by hitting him in the face, trying to throw the Crusader off himself. Guy was physically stronger, and in a moment, the young Crusader was defeated; the man in black leather sat atop of his victim.

Guy picked up his sword and then plunged it into Loughborough’s stomach. Lord Loughborough gave a howl of agony, and his eyes grew wide in shock and pain, his vision blurry, his gaze glassy. Then Guy thrust the sword out of his victim’s body, and lowered his head, his gaze fixing on the huge pool of red blood on the ground; the crimson color looked unnaturally red on the dazzling white snow.

“Bastard,” William hissed. He slumped to his knees, muttered something unclear, and went still.

Guy lifted his eyes, looking at the dead man. “I am sorry,” he said in a whisper.

Gisborne dug a fresh grave near the place where he had murdered Loughborough. The ground was covered with white snow, and he feared that if he dragged the corpse somewhere else, even to the nearby clearing, the traces of blood on the snow would attract unwanted attention. As he buried the corpse, Guy straightened his spine and wiped his hands with a white linen cloth, then threw it away into the woods. He stood frozen over Loughborough’s fresh grave, stupidly looking into the emptiness, his heart beating in thick, heavy strokes, his throat suddenly painfully tight.

He shut his eyes, then swallowed hard. “Why did I do that? Why did I kill this poor man?”

Guy opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He killed Loughborough because he knew that if he hadn’t done that, Marian and he would have been arrested and thrown in the dungeon tonight; they would have been tortured and executed in several days. He pitied his victim, he hated himself and hated Vaisey, but he could do nothing. The man was dead, and they were safe from Vaisey’s wrath, at least for some time.

Stifling a groan of self-disgust, Guy mounted his horse and rode away from the forest. He struggled to banish the images of Loughborough’s corpse out of his mind. Instead, he envisioned the dead knight he had murdered in Forest of Rouvray. Today he again killed a man in the forest, obeying the same man; only today he didn’t behead his victim. It was all Vaisey’s fault, the voice in the back of his head said to him, and all at once he felt that he hated the sheriff with every fiber of his being.

Feeling nauseated, Guy stopped the stallion. He tilted his head slightly, towards the ground, and then vomited, emptied out all the contents of his stomach. He swallowed bile in his throat and cringed in disgust. Then he galloped out of Sherwood and to the castle, hating that he would see Vaisey again.

§§§

After he had buried Lord William Loughborough in the forest, Guy returned to the castle and reported that the Crusader was dead. Vaisey praised him and laughed, joking that Gisborne had temporarily improved his spirits under the weather. Allan was shocked to learn that the young ex-Crusader, whom he considered bold, righteous, and foolish, had been killed by Guy. Guy didn’t go into details and ordered not to speak about the case again as he didn’t want to meet Allan’s piercing, accusing gaze, knowing very well that the former outlaw didn’t approve of the evil deed he had committed.

During the rest of the day, Guy did his best to organize the training of the newly appointed guards; he also had to listen to Vaisey’s plans of diving England between the Black Knights. Dusk had already fallen when Guy and Allan rode back to Locksley. In the late afternoon, drizzling rain arrived, announcing its presence by the clap of thunder, the low moaning of the wind, and the sky turning leaden. Together with the rain, the snow started falling, swirling snowflakes meeting their tired gazes.

Guy and Allan brought the scent of cool wet weather to Locksley Manor. Having changed their wet clothes, they gathered downstairs and enjoyed hot ale served by Thornton, simultaneously talking about the collection of taxes and stubbornly ignoring the death of Lord Loughborough.

As Marian had appeared in the dining room, they seated themselves at the dinner table; the candelabra had been lit to cast out the gloom, and the fire danced in the hearth. Outside, the wind shrieked around the house, the rain pelted the windows, the snowstorm persisted, and the flashing lightning and rumbling thunder created the perfect atmosphere for a ghost story.

At the beginning of the dinner, Marian was enthusiastically chatting about her new ideas to make the villagers’ lives in the cold winter months more comfortable by distributing more food and firewood in Locksley. In spite of usually listening to Marian’s ramblings about the burdens carried by the villagers, today her speeches only irritated Guy. Guy and Allan were tongue-tied, and Marian wondered what brought the mood swing of the two men during the day.

Ugly emotions were swirling in the air, and soon everyone felt uncomfortable and succumbed to a decidedly foul mood. They had lingered over the superb meal, enjoying the first course of turtle soup and baked salmon, among other offerings. Soon Allan excused himself, explaining that he was tired and didn’t want to eat. Guy and Marian were quiet until the very end of the dinner.

After the dinner was finished, Guy retired to the study, asking Thornton to bring an empty silver goblet and a full decanter of wine for him. Marian didn’t follow him and retired to the bedchamber, thinking to approach Guy and talk to him later. She had a feeling that something important had happened in the castle today. Unable to wait anymore, she quickly left her bedroom and went downstairs, heading to the study.

Marian knocked at the door, but nobody answered. She opened the door and entered the chamber. Books filled the room, overflowing the bookshelves and covering much of the floor as well. In the center of the room, a desk stood amongst the sea of books, and there were several high-back chairs covered with lavender and green brocade. The walls were covered with expensive silk tapestries, shimmering with green and lavender thread. Rich carpets of the same colors covered the wooden floor.

Marian swept her eyes over the room, and her heart missed a beat as a powerful feeling of trepidation coursed through her. The room was decorated in the traditional colors of the Huntingdon noble house; Guy didn’t renovate the manor despite the fact that he had planned to do that twice, but something had prevented him. Locksley Manor included everything that had been owned by the previous Earls of Huntingdon, and there had never been anything from the Gisbornes there. The manor still was Robin’s in all senses, except for the legal rights of ownership. It seemed that Robin of Locksley’s spirit had never left the place, and Marian could feel Robin’s presence in every room and corner of the manor.

The study had many memories about young Robin. Marian felt her heart hammering harder as her mind filled with the distant memories of the past. When she had been a girl, she had spent much time at Locksley Manor, playing and chatting with Robin. She had often come freely to the manor and had found Robin there, and then they had gone outdoors to play games with children of local peasants; they had often fled Locksley to have a wild and mischievous adventure in Sherwood. But if Marian couldn’t have found Robin in the living room, in his bedroom, or in any other place upstairs, she had always visited the study where he had spent quite a lot of time after Sir Edward of Knighton had hired for the young lord a teacher, a highly educated old scholar, to give Robin lessons of mathematics, philosophy, languages, theory of military deal, literature, and art.

Guy's black leather profile was etched darkly against the red glare of the hearth as he sat with his eyes closed lost deep in thought, holding a book in his hands. Marian felt her heart beat violently as the memory of Robin sitting at the same desk and in the same chair suddenly flashed in her mind. She could remember Robin’s charming and cheeky smile that contrasted so vividly with Guy’s small and cautious smile he often gave to Marian. Guy’s shining black hair, his sharp line of a nose, his steel blue eyes that forever seemed to see an inch further than Marian’s face and were colder than Robin’s, his lips that could smile, smirk, or frown with an equal force – all what Marian saw at the present moment was so different from the images of the distant past.

Guy looked up from the manuscript laid out before him, and his face brightened. “Marian, you are most welcome,” he said, his voice quiet and deep. “I have thought to find you later.”

In spite of his unwillingness to talk to Marian during the dinner, now Guy was pleased to see his wife. He couldn’t be alone. He needed someone’s company after a long and unpleasant day. The cold and rainy weather drained much strength from him, while his today’s experience in the forest – killing and burying Lord Loughborough– sucked all the strength out of his heart and soul. He was angry with himself and mortified and bitterly frustrated. He had a sensation that everything he had believed in since his banishment from Locksley seemed fated to crumble to dust, and he didn’t exclude that Vaisey was at fault for all his misfortunes.

“How are you doing, Guy?” Marian inquired, looking at him curiously. “You were so reserved today.”

“That’s very nice of you to ask me, my dear,” Guy said in a tranquil manner.

The coldness in his tone caused her to stare hard at him. “What is going on?”

Guy put the book on the desk. He looked uneasy, frowning at Marian. “Robin Hood has a cursed talent to make my life more complicated.”

“Guy, you are again jealous, aren’t you?”

“I am not jealous to this thief,” he snapped angrily.

“Guy, will we be able to ever move on?”

“I am trying to accept your betrayal,” he said absently, a chill of formality in his voice.

Marian came to Guy and seated herself in beside him. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on his lips, but Guy didn’t respond. Instead, he uncoiled himself from his chair and went to fetch a branch of candles from the desk.

“Guy,” Marian addressed her husband.

Guy picked up one candlestick and made his way back to the chair where Marian sat. “What?”

Marian gazed into his eyes. “I chose to marry you, not Robin. I am your wife, not Robin’s.” Though tears threatened to come, she didn’t cry. “Please believe me that I did it willingly,” she assured.

“It is not easy, Marian.”

As her gaze wandered across Guy’s figure, she noticed the dried spot of blood on two fingers of his right arm. “Are you hurt, Guy? Where is a cut?” she asked with concern.

Guy looked down, at his arms, and shuddered. “No.”

Marian looked around and her gaze fell on Guy’s unsheathed broadsword that lay on a chair near the desk. She shuddered as she took in the sight of the bloodied blade, and the realization dawned upon her. She abruptly jumped to her feet and staggered back from Guy. She stood rooted, shaking her head in shock. The blood rushed into her head, dizzying her. She could feel herself weakening, her knees trembling, and she awkwardly sank onto one of the nearby chairs.

“Did you kill someone?” she asked in a shaking voice.

Marian watched Guy in a long, dismal silence. She knew the answer to her question in advance, but she wanted to hear the truth from Guy himself. She could see the tormented expression on Guy’s face and the haunted look in his eyes, and every fibre of her being responded to the feelings of the man who had been forced to kill in order to survive. Yet, she wanted him to realize that only he himself could break his soul from Vaisey’s clutches and free himself fro, his own demons.

“Did you kill someone today?” Marian repeated her question.

“I did,” Guy confessed.

She shook her head. “Why? Why?”

“I had to.”

“Whom did you kill?”

“Lord William Loughborough,” he said briefly.

She sighed. “Do you mean the young Crusader who recently returned from Acre?”

“Yes.”

“The sheriff,” she spat. “Why did Vaisey need his death?”

“He wished to get rid of King Richard’s supporter.”

“This traitor is again targeting King Richard’s loyal men,” Marian hissed between clenched teeth. “Did Vaisey command you to kill Lord William Loughborough?”

“I had to kill Loughborough because I cannot lose my favor with the sheriff,” Guy explained. “Vaisey is angry with me. He thinks that our marriage has a bad influence over me. Do you understand what it may mean?”

Her face twisted into aversion. “Ah, I see! The sheriff wants you to be a man who chops off heads and limbs, kills in cold blood, and tortures dozens of innocent people in the dungeons of the castle.”

Her words bit like venom. Guy scrambled to his feet, and she stood up as well. He stood frozen with his hand gripping his sword. He stared at her with a tormented gaze, and Marian met his gaze fiercely, her eyes burning with anger, but she said nothing.

Guy let out a sigh of regret, and unexpected grief welled up in his heart to mingle with shame and self-hatred. Why didn’t she understand that he had to do many things to protect her from the sheriff and provide them with a great life they both deserved?

“Marian, I am not happy… that I killed the Crusader,” he whispered. “But I must do what the sheriff commands because otherwise… he will make me pay a high price for my failure.” He sighed. “And if I lose my favor, then my downfall will be your downfall as well.”

“I hate the sheriff!” Marian cried out. “He gives you despicable orders, and you obey.”

He gave a resigned sigh. “I have to.”

“I hate that the sheriff is playing with your fate!” Marian shrilled. She was barely able to control her temper as cold and bloody rage overtook her. “I hate the sheriff! I am sick of that fact that you are killing innocent people, even if it is done to protect yourself and me from the sheriff.”

“Marian, please try to understand me,” Guy said soothingly. “There are things which I must do for us and our future life, but, most importantly, for your protection.” He scowled. “After all, we already have to keep the Nightwatchman’s identity secret from the sheriff. We cannot take more risks.”

“I can understand many things, even the fact that you killed someone today,” she said flatly. “But I cannot accept your passion to side with the sheriff. He is a traitor to England and King Richard!”

Guy growled. “I have already told you that I don’t care about King Richard and England!”

“And you should care, Guy!”

He smirked. “Maybe I should care because King Richard possesses divine power?”

She looked confused, not knowing where he was going. “What are you talking about?”

He laughed again. “In my early youth, I knew many Norman and Saxon knights who pledged their staunch loyalty to Prince Richard and later King Richard, respectively. I heard many stupid things about Prince Richard’s divine power and abilities from those knights, some of the king’s loyal supporters.”

She shrugged. “Well, King Richard the Lionheart is a symbol of bravery. Maybe it is the reason.”

“Robin Hood thinks that King Richard is God incarnate on earth,” Guy muttered through gritted his teeth. “He is so besotted by the king.”

“Oh, Guy, please stop it!” She shot him an annoying look.

Guy ignored her pleas; he smiled thinly. “I am not like Hood – I am not insanely besotted by the weak king who doesn’t care about England and his people. And I don’t pretend that I care about the people like this hypocrite Hood does.”

She drew a deep breath, trembling in anger and indignation, each feeling threatening to overwhelm her. “And you are innocent, Guy? Are you a better man than Robin Hood?”

He smirked. “I am not the best man in the world.” His expression hardened, his eyes glittering with rage. “But at least I am not a bloody murderer and a damned hypocrite who feigns a noble face, playing the King of peasants and the savior of England.”

“But you are Vaisey’s man,” she parried in frosty tones. “You are working for the sheriff and comply with his despicable orders, although you don’t like that and at times even despise yourself for doing that.” She sighed. “Maybe it is better to be the savior of the people than the sheriff’s pawn?”

Guy scowled, then stepped towards her and spat out a stream of angry words. “I am not Robin Hood!” he screamed. “I will never be like him!”

She wasn’t going to give up on him; she had to try and talk sense into him again. “I am not asking you to be like Robin, for there is nobody in the world like him,” she snapped, hot anger pulsing through her veins. “Nobody asks you to sacrifice everything for England and save every humble soul. Nobody requests that you pledge your utter loyalty to England and King Richard, like Robin did. But there are things that must be done for everyone’s sake in this land, for you and for me, too!”

“Never compare me to this thief! He is a knave, a cheat, and a murderer!” Guy countered.

“No, you are not Robin Hood! You are Guy, a misguided man who is unwilling to accept his own faults and change himself!” Marian cried out, possessed by a rebellious anger stronger than any she had felt since her marriage. “Damn you, Guy! Be a good and strong man I saw in you on the day of the siege and who fascinated me! Be yourself! Be just Guy, only Guy!”

Guy frowned. “I am ready to accept my faults. And I am myself – I am just Guy who had to suffer due to the vile nature of the damned Robin Hood.”

Marian shook her head grimly. “No, you are not yourself – you are the sheriff’s man, not the man whom I want you to be and whom you can be,” she said and stormed out of the room.

Guy gasped for breath, his voice hardly coming out at all. “Marian! Marian!” he whispered as he sank onto a chair. “Marian! Marian!” he shrieked in despair, wishing her to return to him. Yet, she didn’t come back, and his voice echoed in the emptiness and then faded to nothing.

Marian left him alone with his misery and pain. He was drowning in dark waters of excruciating guilt and agonizing pain, and there was nothing that could save him. Usually, it was Marian’s hand that dragged him back from a dark abyss and showed him a path to redemption, but today she didn’t give him her hand; today she didn’t become his savior. Why did she leave him alone? Why didn’t she understand that he had to kill the Crusader to protect them and keep everything he had managed to achieve after the endless years of suffering and despair?

Guy turned his head and stared into the orange flames of the fire burning in the hearth. The thought that the flames he watched were the flames of dreadful hellfire crossed his mind. He shuddered in overpowering fear, feeling as if someone’s hands were dragging him down into an abysmal ocean of sins and pain. He bowed his head a little and bit his lip, trying to fight off the fear that was creeping over him. He feared that he would burn in hell while alive; he didn’t need to die to be in hell. And after his death, he would burn in hell forever, doomed to endure eternal damnation.

For a minute, Guy felt that the only way to atone for his sins would be breaking with his current life and killing the sheriff, but then rationality settled into his mind, and he stopped thinking of the things which he couldn’t allow himself to do as he didn’t plan to die or to go back to poverty if he would be able to avoid punishment for Vaisey’s murder. Yet, he doubted that his current life in moral hell was better than poverty and even death. The world made him grimace and despise the evil ways he had undertaken to become a wealthy and powerful man.

“I rue the day when I accepted Vaisey’s offer to become his squire,” Guy whispered to himself, feeling as if his misery were now greater than ever before and his torments in life were the forerunner of eternal damnation. “I curse the day when my parents died in the fire. I curse the day when I killed my parents and damned my soul.”

Guy looked around and cringed in disgust at the sight of lavender and green colors flickering before his eyes. He hated lavender and green because these colors were the colors of the Huntingdons; yet, he couldn’t bring himself to refurbish the manor. He hated that everything around him reminded him of Malcolm of Locksley and his son Robin. Guy swung around, running his eyes around the chamber, and his gaze fixed on the bookshelves that contained so many books that he couldn’t count them. And even all those books again reminded him of what he craved to forget.

Once again, Guy was amazed that there were so many books in the study. His mind reproduced his mother’s words that Malcolm of Locksley had been an avid reader and had collected books everywhere he could have bought them. In a moment, hatred mingled with sorrow overwhelmed him, and he wished to run away from the room and the manor. He could no longer stay in the study. The unfortunate and tragic past stalked him everywhere at Locksley Manor.

He made a step forward and paused. Suddenly, he let out a cry of horror as his eyes fixed on the lean hooded man, his figure enveloped in an old black cloak and his face covered with a hood. The hooded man stood at the dark doorway, and Guy felt his heart thundering in his chest. There was something vaguely familiar about the manner in which the man was standing at the doorway – with his hands on his hips, his head slightly tilted to one side, and that reminded Guy of someone. The vision was like someone from the past who came back to life by magic.

Guy blinked and then blinked again. He turned his gaze at the doorway, but there was nobody there. He thought that he had gone mad. He was too much stressed out after a long and unfortunate day.

Keeping his head down so the servants couldn’t see how much he was distressed, Guy hurried to leave the study and went upstairs, to his bedchamber, thinking that if things were bad now, they would be worse soon. He saw strange visions and felt so miserable at Locksley manor, living with Marian in the same house, but he wasn’t at his own home – he was at Robin of Locksley’s home, and everything around was a constant reminder of the past and of the people he hated.

§§§

Three months passed since Robin’s arrival in Acre. On the second day after their arrival, Robin was formally invested with the position of captain of King Richard’s private guard. To everyone’s surprise, Sir James of Lambton, who was the former head of the private guard, refused to go back to England with commendation from the king; he became a usual guard.

As Robin promised, Sir Edmund of Cranfield, the Earl of Middlesex kept the position of the second-in-command to the captain of the king’s guard. Much and Little John became the members of the private guard. Will and Djaq lived at Bassam’s house in Acre. Robin was very busy with his ongoing duties to the king, while Much and Little John once visited Will and Djaq in Acre.

King Richard officially pardoned Robin and the outlaws, and the individual royal pardons were issued on behalf of each former outlaw. Their names were cleared of all the charges leveled against them by Prince John and Sheriff Vaisey of Nottingham in England. Robin’s titles and lands were reinstated, and he again was the king’s loyal man and subject, the Lord of Locksley and the Earl of Huntingdon.

Remembering his long conversation with the lion on the day of his arrival in Acre, Robin suspected that King Richard decided to issue an official royal pardon on behalf of the outlaws largely due to the fact that he strove to ensure that his favorite wouldn’t remain an outlaw for a long time, possibly fearing that something bad could have happened to him. If Richard died while Robin was still an outlaw, he was doomed to be ostracized from the noble society forever as John was highly unlikely to pardon him. 

The king formally transferred the lodge of Bonchurch on Much’s name, formally making him the Baron of Bonchurch. Robin offered to reward Much by elevating him to the rank of a knight from a squire, and Richard voiced no objections. To his astonishment, Much was knighted by King Richard himself at a public ceremony in the camp. After so many years of service to the King of England and Robin, the former manservant became an earl and a knight; Much was now known as Sir Much, Lord Much, or Lord Much of Bonchurch. Much was happy and extremely proud of himself.

Little John, Will, and Djaq were also pardoned and could freely live in England if they chose to return there. King Richard was generous with Robin’s friends and granted to the former outlaws a special gift – three hundred pounds were paid to everyone from the royal treasury.

King Richard sent to England Sir Roger de Lacy and Sir Legrand de Walcott as royal messengers and the king’s representatives with the mission on behalf of Robin and the outlaws. The royal pardons, stamped by the round royal seal with the emblem of three lions, also signed by the king himself, were also sent to Prince John and Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. Several copies were sent to the most influential nobles of England, Aquitaine, and Norman Lands.

By the king’s special decree, Sir Roger de Lacy, Baron of Pontefract, Baron of Halton, Lord of Bowland, Lord of Flamborough and Constable of Chester, also captain of the third guard of the king’s own forces, was charged with management of the Earl of Huntingdon’s estates and lands during Robin’s absence in England. Roger de Lacy was King Richard’s loyal subject and favorite. There was another reason why the king sent Roger de Lacy to England: de Lacy was assumed to be the king’s eyes and ears there and keep an eye on Prince John until Richard’s return to England.

The King of England didn’t like Allan, even though he had never seen him before. Deeply saddened with Roger of Stoke’s death, Richard accused Allan of Roger’s murder and cursed Allan over and over again. However, practicality prevailed, and the king finally agreed that they needed a spy among the Black Knights. Legrand also carried Robin’s message for Allan, in which Allan was offered to become a spy and, if he agreed, was obliged to notify Robin in advance about the regicide attempts planned by Vaisey and Gisborne. The lion pledged to pardon Allan if he had faithfully served him.

Robin feared that Gisborne could have simply killed Legrand and the other king’s men, refusing to acknowledge Robin’s birthright and legal rights for his estates and other property. The king brushed Robin’s fears away with a cunning smile and assured him that the sheriff and Gisborne would be unable to contravene the reinstatement of Robin’s nobility. In accordance with the conniving arrangement the king had invented to preserve Robin’s rights, the sheriff was legally unable to choose and appoint a temporary overlord of Robin’s lands at his discretion, which meant that Gisborne couldn’t have been permitted to reside in Locksley and all other manors owned by Robin. As soon as the official proclamation was made in London at Prince John’s court, in Poitiers at Queen Eleanor’s court, and then in Nottingham, Vaisey was obliged to order Gisborne to leave Locksley Manor.

A smug and satisfied smile curved Robin’s lips every time he imagined Gisborne’s furious face at the sensational news that Robin was pardoned and, thus, Marian and Guy had to move out of Locksley Manor with all their possessions. He regretted that he wouldn’t be able to watch how Gisborne would be humiliated and thrown out of Locksley. It was a part of Robin’s sweet revenge on Guy for taking away his family’s fiefdoms and on Marian for marrying his mortal foe.

Despite Richard’s intention to make peace with Saladin, five Saracen raids took place in the past month. All of them were bloodthirsty and unexpected, which resulted in rather severe losses among the king’s soldiers. They lost more than two hundred men in various guards, including about twenty soldiers in the private guard. More than fifty soldiers were wounded in the raids, and hospital tents in the king’s camp were not empty at all.

After the battles, Robin and Much spent much time helping the wounded and dying men in the hospital tents; they had acted in the same fashion during the long five years they had spent in Acre. Little John was not pleased that he had been surrounded by death everywhere, but he couldn’t complain as Robin had warned him twice about the horrors he would see in Acre.

King Richard gave Robin a long tale about all the thwarted regicide attempts while Robin had been in England. Some of those attempts had happened in the form of unexpected Saracen raids on the Crusaders’ camp, others took place when the king had come to Acre, and one attempt happened on the battlefield. Once Carter had stopped an assassination attempt on the king’s life in Acre, in the crowd of soldiers; the arrested man had been one of the Knights Templar who had served in the Holy Land under the command of Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, whose troops formally were independent but still had to coordinate their actions with the King of England.

Robert de Sablé had been shocked and had begged the king not to hold him responsible for the actions of one treacherous Knight Templar. The arrested would-be assassin had been brutally tortured and had admitted that there had been other Templars against King Richard, but he hadn’t given away their names and had died from his injuries. Carter and Edmund had also discovered several codified messages among the man’s things as they had investigated the case. The assassin had corresponded actively with someone of the Knights Templar, but no names had been discovered.

Since Robin’s return to the Holy Land, only one assassination attempt on Richard’s life took place, and Robin himself foiled it. He spotted an assassin hiding in a narrow lane as the Saracen aimed at the king from his bow at the moment when the king’s party rode across the main street in Acre in the direction of the Citadel of Acre, and then he detained the criminal after a prolonged fight.

The sun was low in the west as Robin and Much rode out of the Crusaders’ camp in the direction of Acre. Much protested that they left without an escort of several guards or a squad, but Robin dismissed his friend’s concerns and insisted that they ride alone. Robin knew that many Saracen would love to show off severed heads of the Crusaders on the point of a lance, but he wanted to have a minute of solitude as they would inspect the surroundings of Acre.

Over the past several months, Robin was in a contemplative, philosophical mood. He went over in his mind every action he had taken during the siege of Acre. He remembered all the battles he had fought in the Holy Land and the crimson desert sand after those battles, all the horrors which he had witnessed and which had been committed with his own hand. Strangely, he was not plagued by the hideous nightmares about war as much as he was in England; perhaps it was because his usual dreams were pushed out of his head by the unbearable dreams about Marian and Gisborne. Yet, the colors of his dreams were red – the color of blood, but not Saracen blood – Gisborne’s blood.

Robin looked outwardly calm, as if he were caring for nothing. Yet, it was only on the surface. The reality was very different. He was physically tired and worn-out, emotionally devastated and desperately trying to bury his pain and grief under a mask of indifference and nonchalance. Pain mingled with hot anger tore his heart apart every time he remembered about Marian's betrayal and his mind invented the scenes of Marian in Gisborne’s arms.

Today, however, Robin couldn’t think of anything; his mind was curiously empty. He tried to sort out his ideas and think of the future events in the Holy Land, but he failed and instead decided to have a ride outside the Crusaders’ camp. He was rather reluctant to go back to the camp, even to see King Richard during their supposed evening audience. His mind was torn between such contradictory feelings as happiness and uneasiness: he felt uneasy to be among death again, but he was happy to be away from Marian and even England. Yet, he began longing for dampness and humidity, green forests, and deep rivers in England. His world was becoming strange.

They rode at a slow pace as they reached the seashore; the Mediterranean Sea expanded a thousand miles ahead. Robin swept his eyes over the yellow sandy dunes, lingering his gaze at the towers of the heavily fortified city. Then his gaze drifted to the magical vision of the fabulous view before him, his eyes taking in the sight of the formidable walls looming over the glittering dark blue waters. The waves crashed against the walls of Acre, washing the steep, thick sandstone walls.

“You are so quiet, Master. What are you thinking of?” Much asked.

“Much, I have already asked you to call me Robin. I am not your Master – I am your friend,” Robin told his friend. “Have you forgotten that you are a noble and a knight like me?”

Much laughed. “Oh, Robin, I know, I know. It is just that you were my master for so long.”

Truth be told, Much didn’t consider himself an equal to his former master because he was a peasant while Robin descended from an old Saxon noble family and was distantly related to the Scottish royal family, as well as to some members of the Plantagenet royal house. Robin was the second cousin of Prince Arthur, Duke of Brittany, through Arthur’s mother Constance, who was the daughter of Margaret of Huntingdon, a sister of the Scottish Kings Malcolm IV and William I.

Besides, the former manservant didn’t think that his newly invested title of a baron wasn’t even half as powerful and mighty as Robin’s because a baron was lower in the peerage of England and because Robin of Locksley held the large and rich Earldom of Huntingdon and the Locksley estate, as well as several other estates, while he had only Bonchurch. He also didn’t say that Robin often didn’t treat him as an equal, though he was pleased that Robin honestly tried to change their relationship, probably correcting his past mistakes.

“Well, old habits die slowly, right, Much?”

“Yes, Robin.”

Robin inhaled, filling his lungs with the sea air, cooled by the freshness of the slight breeze from the sea. “Acre is a beautiful city. There is a strange, fragile beauty of death and life here, and this beauty can leave none but a blind man indifferent,” he said pensively. “It is a miracle, isn’t it?”

“Robin!” Much exclaimed. “You are quite unusual today. Are you alright?”

“I am fine,” Robin responded. “And Acre is indeed a beautiful city.”

“Natural beauty,” Much grumbled. “There is nothing better than England and Sherwood.”

Robin ignored Much’s reference to the forest. “Acre is an exceptional city as it preserves the substantial remains of the ancient culture and our time. Acre symbolizes the interchange between the Eastern and Western cultures better than any other city in the world.” His eyes fell at the walls of Acre. “There is everything in Acre – fortifications, palaces, churches, libraries, mosques, bathhouses, and public buildings, as well as the headquarters of the military orders nearby the city. The merchants have their autonomous quarters nearby the port.”

“You speak as if you want to live here.”

“Of course, no.”

“Did you bring me here to speculate about Acre and the Crusade?” Much questioned, finding his interest in viewing their surroundings abruptly revived.

Robin shook his head. “No, no. I brought you to the seashore just to stay away from the holy war.”

“Away from war?” Much looked vexed. “War is everywhere here! You cannot escape it!”

Unconsciously, Robin again tightened his grip on the reins and then spurred on his white horse, galloping along the shore. Much curbed his horse to keep pace with his companion. They rode against the sun, and their silhouettes reflected long and dark shadows on the yellow sand.

As Robin stopped, Much yanked on his reins and also stopped. “What's the matter?”

Robin gazed away, his eyes taking in the picture of a village ruined by the Crusaders. He frowned, then shook aside a heavy lock of his sandy hair from his forehead. “Nothing has changed since we had left Acre. There is a warlike spirit everywhere.” His voice was sullen.

Much giggled. “Oh, Robin, please! And what did you expect to change here?”

A thoughtful Robin shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You shouldn’t be astonished that war is everywhere around us.”

“Yeah, right, Much. King Richard has always thought that war alone brings true glory. A triumph of arms is necessary to complete the king’s grandeur.”

“We are working for peace..”

“This is what we think.”

Much gave his friend a quizzical look. “You are not sure that our king wants peace?”

“The king does want peace, Much. There is another problem here.” Robin kept staring before him, at the water expanse. “The Holy Land is in the state of constant war. If we make peace with Saladin, this peace might be only an interlude before another war begins.”

“You think there will be a new war after peace?”

Robin let out a small laugh. “War is like love - it always finds a way.”

“Yeah, love and war are so similar,” Much murmured, with an expression as if he were thinking the conversation was taking an irrelevant turn.

Robin reined in his horse and looked at Much with a thoughtful expression. “There is only one God, whatever we call it – Jesus Christ or Allah. God sees how stubborn people are on their way to crush the unbelievers – either Christians or Muslims, and so he turns his back on everyone and war continues. After that, human errors and not God’s will prolong this war.”

“You are philosophical,” Much said after they were riding for a time in silence.

“It is not unusual for me to be philosophical and contemplative,” Robin muttered.

Much gave a nervous huff. “You are acting and behaving strangely, a little out-of-character.” He glanced alarmingly at Robin.

“No, Much. I just can be different.”

“This is all about the Crusade… The Holy Land does strange things to people. Everyone changes. You have changed, Robin, I can tell you that.”

“Much, I can tell you that I have many faces, known and unknown. I prefer to show only my cheeky face and keep everything else to myself.” His voice and face had no usual pathos in them.

“You rarely talk frankly. You are very emotionally reserved.”

Robin smiled wistfully as his eyes focused at the blue ribbons of the waves. “People are different. You always talk because it is your way to ease your mind and think of many things. But your way is not my way, which you often don’t understand, my friend.”

“I talk too much. But would it be better if I always kept silent? I somehow entertain you.”

“I actually enjoy your twittering,” Robin retorted kindly, with the heartfelt joy of a man enjoying the company of an old friend. “From time to time,” he added sarcastically.

“I will be silent only if I am dead,” Much jested. Then he turned suddenly very serious, his eyes darting toward Robin and then away. “And we can die anytime and then be buried in the sand. And even if we survive, we have already gained too many scars.” He paused, unsure whether he should talk, but went on. “And, well, I need to talk about these scars. I need that.”

Robin’s expression hardened. His eyes blurred, and a spasm gripped his throat. He swallowed and took a deep breath. “All of us received many scars in this hostile land _. Emotional scars are worse than physical ones_ ,” he said after a long pause, his voice morose and slightly trembling. At that moment, his inward effort was entirely focused on blocking the images of war running through his brain at once. “Some say what they really feel better if they share their burdens with someone else. And yet…”

“This is not about you,” Much continued.

“Yes, not about me, Much. This is not my way and it will never be. Not after the Holy Land.”

“Fine. I am sorry. I meant no offense.”

Robin grinned at him. “I know, Much. It is just about me. It is my way and I prefer to keep it.” He sighed. “Maybe divine inspiration is precisely what I need most.”

Much snorted. “Certainly, divine.”

“You see, Much, I can’t face the terrors we saw in the Holy Land,” Robin acknowledged, shaking his head. “I can’t because I am not as strong as you. I have to put them out of my mind, because if I don’t do this, then I wouldn’t be able to lead. I mean, I wouldn’t even be able to–” He stopped himself, ashamed to say that probably he wouldn’t be able to shoot if he were stalked with horror.

“What, Robin?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Robin noticed turned his head and noticed that several King’s guards rode in some distance from them, with their weapons drawn. “Why are they here?”

“It is Edmund’s orders.”

“They always followed us from the camp?” Robin’s tone sharpened. Edmund’s orders meant Richard’s orders. Did the king try to track him down?

Much shrugged. “I think so. Sorry.”

A laughing Robin turned to the guards and winked at them; then he spurred on his mount, saluted in farewell, and rode off into the twilight without looking back, seeking to outpace the guards. Much grumbled, cursing Robin’s recklessness and his thirst for adventure; he cast a short glance back at the sea, and urged his horse on as he raised his right hand up to signal the men to follow them.

Despite his active participation in bloody raids and battles and his outstanding fighting skills, Robin wasn’t completely unprotected in the Holy Land. While he understood and knew that it was normal for the captain of the private guard to be accompanied by the guards for protection, especially if they rode in the desert, he had no idea that he was observed in battles at the king’s order. Robin wasn’t supposed to ever learn that he had his own small private guard within the king’s private guard he headed.

§§§

Robin and Much returned to the king’s camp in the late afternoon, after the sunset. They dismounted near the entrance to the camp. Robin waved his head, signaling two young guards to take their horses by the reins and lead them away. The guards that accompanied their captain in his voyage to the seashore arrived in a minute.

A young page approached Robin and invited him to the royal tent. Robin guessed that the king wondered where his main man had gone with any notice. His liege could have been angry and displeased; he prepared himself for a long lecture or at least for reprimand.

Robin walked in the tent. He stopped in the middle, near the king, his eyes downcast, hands folded at his waist. “My liege,” he greeted, bowing his head to his sovereign.

King Richard sat at the table with the maps, in a high-back chair covered with red velvet. He tore his eyes from the parchment and looked at the guest.

“Captain Locksley,” Richard said coldly, his face unreadable, his blue eyes of a luminous intensity.

Richard was not alone. The prominent member of the private guard – Sir Roger IV de Tosny, Baron de Conches – had a private audience with the king. One of the royal favorites, Roger de Tosny served in the private guard since the beginning of the Crusade and deserved the king’s highest praise and trust; he was also a Knight Templar. He was Robert de Beaumont’s distant cousin.

Roger de Tosny stood near the king, his brown eyes fixed on Robin. His figure appeared rather large and tall, although he was of an average height, with broad shoulders and muscled chest. His flame-haired head reminded of King Richard’s red-gold hair, but it was of a shade lighter. His narrow face was not very handsome and was chiseled into tight angles of hostility and harshness, but it still had a pronounced air of nobility and had a frank, good-humored expression that always impressed people favorably. He was without doubt one of those guards who got accustomed to the holy war and were surprised at nothing, who found a matter of burying a dying comrade quite light-heartedly, and who waste no time in deliberation, and would not hesitate to make friends with the devil himself if he had to save his king, England, or one of his comrades.

The king rose to his feet and came to Robin; their eyes locked. They stood looked at each other for a while without speaking. Robin was feeling vexed and found nothing to say on his side.

King Richard stared at Robin, his face slowly breaking into a wolfish smile. “How was your lonely ride along the seashore, Lord Huntingdon? Did you see many birds there? Did you enjoy watching a lovely sunset?” He spoke in Norman-French.

Robin grinned cheekily, his expression sheepish. “It was as good as expected, sire. Great breath of fresh air near the sea always makes my head clear,” he replied in the same language.

“Flash your cheeky grins when you look at young pretty ladies and village girls to woo them,” Richard snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Your devastating charm and arrogantly confident look impress everyone and draw women to you like bees to honey, but it won’t charm us and make us forget about your foolish mistake and ignorance of rationality.”

An ashamed Robin blanched. “Sire, I assure you that I meant no disrespect. I didn’t–”

“Silence, Robin,” Richard ordered in a tight voice. “You left the camp without giving us any notification and only with Much. The two of you rode alone and unprotected in the desert and then along the lonely seashore. It is absolute madness for the man of your station and age.”

Robin gave a nod, looking at the ground. “I wasn’t absent for a long time. Only–“

“We may have needed you while you were gone. Most importantly, in the Holy Land, captain of the private guard can find many things that can make him bleed,” the king continued.

“I was reckless,” Robin acquiesced.

Richard was obviously angry. “Huntingdon, do you crave to repeat your hardly pleasant experience when you were kidnapped from the battlefield together with Robert and Much during the siege of Acre? Wasn’t that a hard lesson for you? Or do you want to make us send envoys to all emirs and sheiks in the Holy Land, searching for you and offering a ransom of any size in case you are somehow discovered alive?”

The king knew that it wasn’t Robin’s fault that he had been kidnapped once, but he still pressured the younger man to be more cautious. Richard suspected that the Black Knights could have attempted to kill his Captain. Besides, the lion had already learned that Prince John was searching for the Queen Mother’s golden boy, and he wasn’t ready to expose Robin’s life to more risks.

“My last capture was… more than enough. I didn’t want to create any problems,” Robin said sadly.

“Next time, Huntingdon, have some courtesy and notify us where you are heading and when you are planning to return,” the king stated strictly, in a metallic voice. “Also, next time be rational and take at least six or seven guards if you leave the camp and go anywhere, even to Acre. Use your common sense and don’t be so reckless. Stop courting danger when you can avoid it.”

A flustered Robin looked down. “I am sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” The lion nodded. “Is everything clear?”

“Yes, milord.”

“Really clear, captain? Or do we need to knock more sense into your head?” the king asked again, emphasizing that he was truly displeased.

Robin felt like an utter fool. He knew that Richard was worried about him. He shouldn’t have left the camp only with Much. “I understand. Everything is clear, sire,” he forced his voice to sound steady.

Roger smiled at the exchange. The guards and even royal favorites often were amazed that the king fiercely protected the two soldiers he loved most of all his knights – Robin of Locksley and Robert de Beaumont.

“I hope so.” The king gave a slight nod of his head and emitted a deep sigh. “Now about more interesting things. Roger, come here,” he called another man.

Roger walked to the king and bowed his head in respect, then outstretched his hand and handed Robin the parchment. Robin took the parchment and glanced quizzically at the king. Richard motioned Robin to read, returned to the table, and then settled in his armchair.

Robin looked through the parchment. It was the last secret message from William de Longchamp, which the king received today. As they used pigeons for quick exchange of messages, Richard was in regular contact with de Longchamp.

A master of manipulations and a schemer, de Longchamp had a vast network of experienced spies at Prince John’s court, in Normandy, Aquitaine, Brittany, Anjou, Maine, and even at the French court. Lady Amicia de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester’s elder sister and currently Prince John’s mistress, was King Richard’s personal spy at the royal court in London.

De Longchamp informed his lord and sovereign about the new sophisticated plot to overthrow King Richard and make Prince John the King of England. The Pact of Caen coordinated the joint efforts of the nobles from Normandy, Aquitaine, Anjou, Maine, and Brittany, Richard’s formerly loyal vassals, in the probable rebellion against King Richard in favor of Prince John and King Philippe of France. The document was similar to the Pact of Nottingham and was signed by many Norman and Poitevin nobles.

There had been information leakage that the Pact of Caen had been carried by a trusted messenger to the Holy Land for Robert de Sablé. It was difficult to check because Richard couldn’t order to ransack Robert de Sablé’s things and temporarily detain him. Of course, Robin had given the Pact of Nottingham to the king as a proof of high treason of many English lords. Obviously, there were traitors in the private guard who spied for de Sablé and were bought by the Black Knights. Robin wasn’t astonished because he had never liked de Sablé, thinking that there was always something dark and slippery around Grand Master of the Knights Templar.

“Is it Amicia’s information, sire?” Robin asked.

“Exactly. She sent her message through Longchamp, so that he could have applied the system of double codification for it,” Richard answered, his mind drifting off to Lady Amicia, who risked so much to get this information for him; he was immensely grateful to her.

“Is Amicia’s cover at Prince John’s court still reliable?” Robin glanced over at Roger de Tosny, whose eyes showed the same concern. “It is so dangerous.”

 “We are also worried, believe us,” Richard responded with a deep sigh. “Amicia has to be very careful. Thanks to God she knows what to do and how to do that.”

“She can take care of herself,” de Tosny said in soothing tones.

Richard shrugged his broad shoulders, but there was no smile on his face. “Let’s hope that John will be unaware of Amicia’s true allegiances until our return.” His gaze flew to Robin. “What do you think about the conspiracy, Robin? We want to know your opinion.” His tone turned more personal tone. His eyes were as soft now as a moment before they had been cold and impenetrable.

As he finished reading de Longchamp’s message, Robin felt his body tremble; his heart sank into his throat. De Longchamp reported that one of his spies had discovered that two nobles who had signed _the Pact of Caen_ betrayed Robert de Sablé and were at Richard’s side now. The same nobles reported that de Sablé planned to hire the Hashashin to assassinate King Richard in Acre. The conspiracy against Richard was more serious and more sophisticated that it seemed at first glance. The most alarming thing was that the Hashashin could have organized regicide in any form, anytime and anywhere. Thus, the private guard had to be on high alert day and night to protect the king; there must have been no chance left to enter the Crusaders’ camp undetected.

“A bold step,” Robin managed to say, his voice sounded taut. “And desperate.”

“The conspiracy is very sophisticated,” the king spoke flatly. “The Pact of Caen will most likely prove that this document was signed by the Black Knights from Normandy, Aquitaine, and Brittany, like the Pact of Nottingham, was signed by English lords.”

“The Black Knights are everywhere.” Robin frowned, looking from the king to Roger.

“Your opinion, Roger?” the lion requested.

“It seems that the Black Knights corrupted many nobles from the continental territories, even in Aquitaine,” Roger remarked.

“Our brother’s conspiracy is very complicated.” The lion grimaced.

“Sheriff Vaisey stands behind Robert de Sablé. Vaisey is coordinating the whole conspiracy. Others are just pawns,” Robin said confidently, his mind briefly drifting to Gisborne.

King Richard looked at Robin curiously, then nodded. “Undoubtedly, Lord Peter Vaisey is the chief plotter. If de Sablé fails to persuade the Hashashin to assassinate us, Lord Vaisey and Sir Guy of Gisborne will come to Acre and try to kill us.”

“The sheriff may not have time. We may make peace and leave,” Roger intervened.

The king shook his head. “No. They will make another regicide attempt in the Holy Land.”

“Why?” Robin and Roger inquired together.

The Lionheart sighed in frustration. Richard was so fed up with all the conspiracies against him, all of them led by his vile brother John, that he thought that one day he would strangle John with his bare hands in an outburst of spontaneous rage. Every time he heard about John’s new plot against himself, Richard found out more and more new sides of his younger brother’s character.

“Our brother John wants our death in the Holy Land. It is the best possible option for him,” Richard spoke rhetorically, casting a sidelong glance to Robin. His expression was wistful for an instant, as if he could see something in Robin that made his heart beating faster, but then his face turned blank. “When Conrad de Montferrat was murdered by the Hashashin, many people believed that God had no wish to see him reign over Jerusalem. John wants to murder us in the Holy Land so as he could prove that God didn’t wish his elder brother to rule England and even to finish the Crusade with a victory.”

Robin’s heart filled with warmth as he thought of the king sympathetically. “I am truly sorry that you have to deal with these plots organized by your own brother.”

The lion laughed ruefully. “There is nothing strange that Prince John wants to kill us and then become King of England.” He smirked. “ _The Plantagenets are quite a special family_. All our brothers fought against each another at different times and made opposite alliances to weaken their rivals.”

Robin blurted out from the heart, “If I had a brother, I would have never tried to kill him. _I would have loved my brother or sister_.” As he realized that he unintentionally crossed a line, he stared at the king, his expression remorseful and frightened. “I am so sorry, milord. I… meant no disrespect,” he said humbly, struggling to keep his voice steady.

De Tosny stared at Robin in awe, thinking that his captain was an outrageously bold man.

Robin was embarrassed with his outburst, angry with himself as he said more than he meant and intended. Yet, his words were sincere. He had always wanted to have a sibling, but he never had. He was hollowed out by the shameful knowledge of his own devastating self-betrayal as he told the king what he had no right to say aloud. At least he didn’t comment on the relations in the king’s family and only talked about himself; it was not his right to judge the royals.

The relations within the Plantagenet family had always horrified Robin. He had never understood why someone could have wished to murder his brother or sister. Robin didn’t envy his king who, he suspected, was torn between the necessity to punish Prince John for treason, the urgency to protect himself, and the limits of the punishment, for the lion couldn’t execute the prince.

Roger de Tosny tensed as he watched Robin and the king from the corner of his eye. He half expected the king’s temper to flare up in a sequence of reproaching French words.

The king surprised his companions. He smiled with the charismatic smile that could have entranced anyone. He wasn’t angry at all. "Audacious and sincere," he declared thoughtfully. “But what else could we expect from you, Robin?” He laughed heartily, looking at his captain, his gaze kind and warm.

“Yes.” Robin returned an affectionate smile, almost laughing at his whimsical thoughts that the lion had actually agreed with him. He was surprised that the king didn’t reproach him.

Roger cleared his throat to shift the king’s attention from Robin to himself. “I am sorry, milord, but I think that Prince John may rebel and fight for the throne of England upon your return, sire.”

“John may openly rebel against us, but not before he makes another regicide attempt,” Richard countered. “We must be ready to meet Vaisey and Gisborne here.”

“And we will,” Robin pledged, his jaw clenched. He loathed Vaisey who had caused so much pain to the people of Nottingham; anger slashed through him. But he hated Gisborne more.

“Sire, and what will the punishment be for Guy of Gisborne?” de Tosny asked cautiously.

The king arched a brow, puzzled. “Why are you asking, Roger? Is there something you want to tell us?”

Roger shook his head. “Nothing. I asked out of mere curiosity.”

“You know that punishment for high treason is death.” King Richard eyed de Tosny suspiciously.

Robin gave Roger an unsettling look. “Traitors must pay for their crimes.”

“Certainly,” Roger retorted somewhat uneasily.

“We will be cautious and on high alert,” Robin promised. “But if there are the Black Knights or their spies among members of the private guard, then we may have to face a great problem.”

“We must wash out these traitors, but it won’t be easy,” Roger said neutrally.

“Think how to do that, Roger. Then inform Robin and we will discuss,” Richard instructed.

Roger nodded. “Yes, milord.”

“Roger, later we will seek your opinion on the matter of a new regicide attempt; we value your contribution very much. Continue watching de Sablé and report to us,” Richard said. “Now leave.”

“As you ordered, sire,” Roger de Tosny said, bowing his head before leaving the tent.

There was a mirthless chuckle from Robin. “We may seek an alliance with the Hashashin by ourselves. We should ask Robert de Sablé to arrange a meeting with them.”

The king nodded. “It is worth taking into consideration.”

“I have a plan,” Robin said, running his hand through his hair. “Well, half-a-plan.”

Richard smiled. The smile he bestowed on his captain was full of laughter. “As usual, I will invent a crazy half-a-plan that will drag us into danger, but everyone will survive and we will get what we want.”

Robin’s large smile rivaled the king’s. It was hardly a compliment his liege gave him, merely a statement of fact. “As always.”

“What is your plan?”

Robin already had half-a-plan, and an impish gleam lit up his face. He offered, “We can set a trap for de Sablé. If he plans to hire the Hashashin, we can foil his plan and expose him as a traitor in the process of negotiating an alliance with the assassins. If we set up the meeting with Grand Master of the Hashashin, it will take place on their territory. I may represent my king as captain of the guard and as your trusted person.”

“You won’t go there alone.”

“Of course, I will take several other guards and Count Henry de Champagne with me.”

Richard was silent as he collected his thoughts. “Approved,” he said at last.

“I wonder how de Sablé plans to persuade the assassins to kill you.”

“We are not aware of that.”

Robin opined with confidence, “It is in our best interest to establish an alliance with the Hashashin. I think Grand Master de Sablé will try to disrupt our negotiations. Undoubtedly, he will try to persuade the Hashashin to kill you, sire. We have a chance to catch de Sablé in the very act of the doing, if we are lucky enough and think out all the details beforehand.”

The lion tapped his chin, his eyes turning pensive. “Grand Master de Sablé certainly doesn’t need our alliance with the assassins. He will do everything to ruin our plans.”

“I wonder what kind of arguments de Sablé will use to sway the Hashashin from an alliance with the King of England to an alliance with the treacherous Knights Templar and, thus, Prince John.”

Richard shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “The strongest argument would be the fact that many of our vassals are ready to rebel against their true sovereign and want to have a new king on the throne – John.” His voice sounded tired.

Robin understood what his liege implied. “Robert de Sablé would show the assassins the signed Pact of Caen as proof that many influential and rich nobles – English and Norman lords – conspire to overthrow you, milord. In this case, the assassins would be more willing to establish an alliance with de Sablé and then assassinate the rightful King of England.”

“Quick reasoning,” the king praised.

“If our trap works, we will have the Pact of Caen in our hands. We will compare the names of the traitors with those in the Pact of Nottingham. Then we will have a full list of traitors.”

“We will have much work in the coming months.”

“Should I approach the Hashashin with regards to our alliance?” Robin asked.

“No, Robin. We will place Grand Master de Sablé in charge with the arrangement of the meeting with Grand Master of the Assassins,” the king said emphatically, staring into space. “It will be better if he himself coordinates the event. Then he will feel more confident and will be more likely to commit a mistake.”

“As you command, my liege.”

“Grand Master should be in Acre now.” Richard pointed a finger at Robin. “Ask the page to fetch de Sablé to the camp in several days.”

“It will be done, sire.”

“Thank you, Robin. You may leave.” The lion waved a hand of dismissal.

“Milord, with your permission,” Robin obeyed, making a deep bow before turning around. Then he spun on his heel and headed to the exit from the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guy is frank with Marian and gives her the long and sad tale about his life in Normandy. Guy’s story about his life in Normandy is very detailed because I wanted to cover the loopholes in his past and analyze what prompted him to make choices he did, mainly his choice to serve Vaisey. It is very important to understand what went through Guy’s head when he pledged his loyalty to the sheriff.
> 
> Guy knows that what he does at Vaisey’s order, and yet he is loyal to him because the sheriff promised him power and “saved” him in Normandy. I hope you liked the back story about Vaisey’s first meeting with Guy and the first killing performed by Guy at the sheriff’s command. Vaisey trapped Guy and forced him to work as his squire, and later you will realize why the sheriff needed exactly Guy to be with him. Vaisey is much more cunning than you can imagine and he plays an important role in the old conflict between Robin and Guy. I also assure you that Vaisey has no idea that Robin is the golden boy he is looking for.
> 
> The information about the rebellion of 1173 – Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine and her sons, including Henry the Young, Richard, Geoffrey, and John, rebelled against King Henry – is historically correct.
> 
> In this chapter, Guy kills young Lord Loughborough at the sheriff's order. We see that after the evil deed is done, Guy is disgusted with himself and hates the sheriff. I introduced the twist not to show how bad and evil Guy is, but rather to make him feel guilty and feel responsibility for his actions. Guy's problem is that he prefers to blame others for his problems and misery, being weak-willed to change himself without being pushed to these changes by a third party.
> 
> Guy worked for Sir Roger de Tosny before he was hired by Vaisey. I introduced this character because I wanted someone to be Guy’s friend, even if from the past, and because there is a new important connection between Robin and Guy here, for this Roger is close to King Richard and serves under Robin’s command. This man is also needed for one important twist in the future. 
> 
> The de Bailleul and the de Tosny families were old Norman nobles in reality. I decided to make Guy’s mother a descendant of the old noble family and just took one of the well-known surnames. The Tosny family was indeed very rich and had a businesslike mind, earning huge profits from trade and merchant deals. Sir Roger de Tosny is a real historical personality who accompanied King Richard the Lionheart on the Third Crusade. There will be several more historical personalities in this story.
> 
> Guy had a vision of the hooded man in the study. He thought that it was a hallucination, but you know the truth – Malcolm of Locksley returned to Nottingham from Aquitaine.
> 
> It is said that Robin is distantly related to the Scottish royal house and is the second cousin of Prince Arthur, Duke of Brittany, who in history was murdered by Prince John after King Richard’s death. Robin is a fictional character, but the Huntingdon line used to be an old and very noble one and was really related to the Scottish king. I am just combining fiction with historical reality.
> 
> I hoped you liked Robin’s long conversation with Much. I wanted to make their relationship progress to the level when Robin becomes franker with his former servant, but not exactly frank. Definitely, Robin takes care of Much and ensures that his friend is given the land he had promised him a while ago for the service in the Holy Land. I also wanted to make Much knighted, for he fought alongside with Robin for many years and it is fair to him. Please take an attentive look on Robin’s character: Robin is guarding his emotions even with Much, although he is probably more frank with him than with someone else. Robin's true spiritual world is hidden behind the mask of arrogance and nonchalance, covered with his cheeky, devil-may-care grin.
> 
> There were no debentures in the High Middle Ages, but we had Count Frederick, a professional gamester, on the show. Let's assume that gambling and card games were popular at that time. I know for sure that nobles played some games for money and there were card games, so that we can suppose that Guy could play, too.


	12. Love on the Battlefield

**Chapter 12**

**Love on the Battlefield**

King Richard and Robin of Locksley stood in the full glare of the sun, talking about peace negotiations with Saladin and the Shah-Mat operation. The appearance of Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, silenced them abruptly, and their eyes fixed on the guest.

Wearing a white Templar Tunic with a red cross emblazoned on his chest, Robert de Sablé was an imposing, tall, middle-aged man of memorable and distinguished appearance. He looked as impressive as ever in spite of the lines of age and fatigue emerging on his tanned face. Robert’s green eyes, lightly slanting slightly upwards, reminded of a hunter’s cruel gaze chasing after his pray. He wore his blonde hair short, cut in the late French fashion, no trace of powder marred the gleaming surface of the black satin ribbon that confined it and showed off its light blonde hue.

Robin intercepted de Sablé’s piercing gaze, and he smiled at the Grand Master, wondering what the man was thinking of at that moment. The two men never were very fond of one another as de Sablé envied Robin’s high favor with the king. Robert was also enraged that the King of England had relied more on his own forces – the king’s guards and other troops – than on the Knights Templar. There were times when Robert de Sablé and Robin of Locksley barely tolerated each other, only because of the necessity to spend time together in the king’s presence.

“Grand Master de Sablé,” King Richard greeted.

Robert de Sablé bowed to his liege. “My king, I am so pleased to see you in good health and excellent mood. I arrived here at your request,” he said, looking right into the king’s eyes.

“We are very well, Robert. Thank you,” the king replied.

“How are you, Lord Huntingdon? Have you already adapted to life in the Holy Land?” de Sablé said tauntingly.

“I am perfectly fine,” Robin replied, his eyes challenging de Sablé. “Thank you for being so courteous, Monsieur de Sablé.”

De Sablé grinned. “Maybe this time – the second time – your service in the Holy Land, Huntingdon, will make you stop pampering yourself. You can stand up to life, for by God you have to do this.”

“Our esteemed Grand Master, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?? Did the heat and the sun make you forget the elementary rules of etiquette?” The king’s voice had no emotion in it whatsoever – neither harshness nor anger, but he showed his displeasure.

Robert de Sablé lowered his head, as though in embarrassment, of course, a fake one. “I beg you, my liege, to accept my sincere apologies, if I displeased you.”

Richard’s gaze didn’t soften. “Robert, you should ask Robin for forgiveness.”

“Yeah, no apologies are needed, Monsieur de Sablé. You say I need to stand up to life?” Robin spelled out thoughtfully, his lips stretching out in a wry grin. “Oh, my, my beloved Grand Master! I have been doing nothing for years; I only pampered myself and played a soldier and a hero; then I bragged and boasted.” His grin widened. “Life has treated me like a coconut palm. It has supplied me with a plenty of nuts – only God has dropped them right on my head.”

The king exploded with laughter. “Robin, your dry humor is one of the few entertainments at war.”

“Huntingdon, nothing can ever make you blush to the roots of your hair,” de Sablé said rudely.

“Nothing,” Robin nearly sang, his grin sheepish and on the verge of impudence.

Robert de Sablé stared at the king. “Sire, you sent for me. Do you have any new specific orders?”

Richard gave a nod. “Yes, Robert. We need you to do something for us.”

“Then, we should talk,” de Sablé said politely, hinting at the private audience.

“Now and right here,” Richard stated bluntly, without any preamble. “Robert, we want you to contact Grand Master of the Hashashin and inform him that we are seeking an alliance with the Assassins.”

“Excuse me, milord?” Robert was puzzled.

“Before we begin peace negotiations with Saladin, we want to establish an alliance with the Hashashin. We must be sure that we won’t be backstabbed,” the King of England enlightened in an official tone. “Robert, arrange the meeting at their earliest convenience. You will have to visit one of their strongholds, maybe Masyaf, al-Kahf, al-Qadmus, or another one.”

“Sire, maybe we should–” Robert tried to say but was interrupted.

“Robert, we didn’t ask your opinion on the matter,” the king said sharply. Then he looked at Robin, a wolfish smile on his lips. “Robin, you will accompany Grand Master de Sablé on his mission. You will take someone from the private guard with you. Henry de Champagne will also come with you.”

Robin smiled back at Richard. “As you command, my liege.”

“Sire, I may do everything without your private guard,” Robert told the king.

“No, you cannot, Robert,” Richard asserted with a ring of finality in his voice. “Captain Locksley will be responsible for negotiating the terms of the peace treaty with Saladin. He must be aware of all the alliances in the Holy Land we are seeking.”

Robert dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, milord. I will do as you want.”

Robert de Sablé bowed to his sovereign and quickly marched away from the training field. King Richard glanced at Robin and gave him a conspiratorial smile, a facetious gleam in his blue eyes. Robin’s eyes, a shade of lighter blue than the king’s, sparkled with laughter.

Robin looked at King Richard. “My liege, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Robin.”

“Do you indeed want to make peace with Saladin?”

“Yes, I do want peace,” Richard confirmed, shifting to a private conversation with his friend in a more personal tone. “It is one of the reasons why I recalled you back to Acre. You hold a conciliatory and human attitude towards the Saracens, and I want to use it for the sake of peace in the Holy Land. You will be the key negotiator with Saladin.”

“We need our king back in England. We must finish this war and return to England.”

“I also want to go home, Robin.”

“To Aquitaine?”

“At first to England and then to Aquitaine,” the lion elaborated.

“Then we sign the peace treaty and will go home, sire,” Robin said with a brilliant smile.

“Yes, we will.” Richard smiled back; but his smile was tiny and cautious, for his experience taught him to plan in advance but never to be entirely sure of a successful outcome.

“I see no value and no sense that we are staying in the Holy Land for so long. It is useless to fight the bloody war with thousands of the Saracens, which is futile; we win today and conquer a city or a village, but they come back tomorrow and re-conquer the same place.”

“How, how true, Lord Huntingdon!” the lion exclaimed half sarcastically, half seriously.

Robin’s cheeks flushed. “My liege, I beg your pardon. I speak out of turn.”

The king surprised Robin by his laugh. “Robin, you speak out of turn so often that we would have to spend many days without sleep only remembering and then counting all those times.”

Flattered by the king’s candid desire to listen to him and relieved that the king’s spirits revived after the recent reprimand, Robin cocked his head. “Oh, no. Better not to count.”

The king said something else about their plans to thwart the next assassination attempt on his life, but Robin didn’t listen. He raised his eyes and was blinded by the blazing sun. Although he had already got accustomed to the scalding sun, he missed Sherwood and England. He often remembered the picturesque sunsets in the woods as the sun was setting upon one of rich grassy glades, its red rays shooting a broken light through shattered boughs and mossy trunks of the trees. He regretted that he didn’t enjoy the pleasantries of natural landscape in Sherwood.

Robin was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the melodic Norman-French voice. “The lion and his little bird are standing under the blazing sun. Are you intending to boil yourself alive, my lords?”

Like a feeble voice of murmur to a placid streamlet, that voice seemed very familiar to Robin’s ear. Robin swung around and gasped as his pale blue eyes locked with the sparkling violet eyes that teased, seduced, and challenged him. The young woman was the beautiful stranger from the moonlit garden in Limassol. This time she wore a trendy gown of light blue silk, with silver embroidery on tight bodice and with a low V-shaped neckline. Her long, red-gold hair was loose, streaming down her slender shoulders. Diamonds were weaved into her hair with the thinnest gold thread. She was as beautiful, as cold, as marble statues of goddesses in ancient Roman temples.

Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, Countess de Champagne, also stood nearby. She looked stunning in her dark orange gown with high neckline and a small train. Isabella’s chocolate hair was left down. She looked at Robin and laughed, immensely pleased to see her former lover in Acre.

“Ladies, come to us,” King Richard greeted with a large welcoming smile. “We are delighted to welcome you.” He beckoned the two women to come to him.

A stunned Robin looked at the king and then turned his gaze at Melisende. Both Richard and Melisende had red-gold hair, smiled with similar smiles, and there was the same wicked and mysterious glow of amusement and arrogance in their eyes. There was a unique air of regalness and superiority about each of them. _The lady resembled Richard in so many ways, and it was really easy to understand that there was a Plantagenet by birth_. The realization dawned upon him who the lady with red-gold hair was. Darkness swirled in his mind, the horrendous embarrassment consumed every fibre of his body. Robin cursed himself that he had been so stupid and had failed to catch the resemblance between the king and the lady.

Melisende and Isabella stopped next to King Richard and sank into deep curtsies. Richard told them to rise and made a small bow to the two women.

“Robin, this is Lady Melisende Adelaide Plantagenet, Countess de Bordeaux; she is our beloved cousin,” Richard introduced, his eyes fixed on Robin. “You may have met Melisende at our mother’s court more than seven years ago, although probably you don’t remember her because she was very young back then.”

“Yes, sire.” Robin smiled, his face impenetrable, but he had to put a great deal of efforts to stay calm. In reality, he felt as if he had been swallowed by hell itself: Isabella, his one-night lover, and Melisende, the beautiful night stranger, were so close to him. It was a delicate, embarrassing situation.

Melisende smiled enchantingly, a gleam of playfulness in her eyes. “I am honored to meet the legend of the Holy Land and England.”

Struggling to hide his embarrassment, Robin managed a surprisingly modest smile. “Lady Melisende and Lady Isabella, I am honored to meet both of you.”

“Huntingdon, I hope you are not going to leave Acre in the next months,” Isabella nearly sung.

Robin grinned. “No, no. I am not going to desert and be hanged for treason.”

The king laughed merrily. “Robin and Leicester are the last people whom we can hang for treason.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Even despite their disobedience and insubordination.”

Melisende laughed. “Richard, if you hang the Earl of Huntingdon, England will lose its finest warrior and hero. How will the nation survive without Robin Hood?” she asked teasingly.

“Out of all people in the world, Robin Hood wants the least to be hanged,” Robin mocked.

“Oh!” Melisende exclaimed. “Huntingdon’s death would be such a great loss of talents.”

Richard looked between Robin and Melisende. “Melisende, you spent several months in Limassol with Lady Isabella. Did you meet Robin when he was there on his way to Acre?”

“Yes, Richard. I saw Huntingdon on the banquets a couple of times,” Melisende replied half honestly, avoiding any hint at the incident in the garden. “Everyone saw him there.”

“Ah!” Richard exclaimed. “We could have guessed that!” But he remarked Robin’s hardly noticeable sigh and a tension of Melisende’s lips, realizing that they had been hiding something.

“In Limassol, Lord Huntingdon was the most far-famed guest.” Isabella smiled seductively as she glanced at Robin.

Robin slightly bent his head. “You exaggerate my popularity, my lady.”

Melisende smiled. “Oh, there is nothing better than meeting you, Richard, and Lord Huntingdon in the camp when you come here for the first time.”

“I would say there is nothing more unexpected,” Robin corrected, slightly drawling every word.

“Only for you, Huntingdon,” Melisende retorted, grinning at him.

§§§

After Isabella of Jerusalem had left the king’s camp, King Richard invited Robin and Melisende to have a private dinner. They enjoyed meal and talked about the recent events in Norman Lands and in Aquitaine. The king also talked much about peace negotiations with Saladin and the regicide attempts on his life. Melisende Plantagenet and Isabella of Jerusalem were staying in Acre, in the Citadel of Acre. Together with Henry of Jerusalem, Count de Champagne and Isabella’s husband, they arrived in Acre a day ago and were met in the harbor by the Earl of Leicester. They were supposed to stay there for indefinite time, and Robin knew that it was not the last time he would see the charming Melisende.

After the dinner, King Richard excused himself and left the tent, heading to his second tent where he had an audience with Henry de Champagne. Richard asked Robin to entertain Melisende until he came back from his meeting.

In spite of all his self-control, Robin felt his mind reeling, his heart pounding. Melisende was beautiful, not only dangerously but fatally beautiful, for there was a lethal, unexplainable aura of fatality around her. He couldn’t explain why he associated Melisende with doom. It was as if he were watching the beauty of earth before Last Judgment. Melisende’s face was carved in the likeness of beautiful sirens, which lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and sweet voices only to have those bewitched men killed in a shipwreck on rocky coasts of their island.

The combination of her fatality and regalness magnetized him, on a physical level, and surprisingly went deeper, into his heart and soul. Why were her face appearance and her voice tempting him like sirens tempted sailors, deliberately enticing him and leading him astray at the mere sight of her violet eyes? Was it his punishment for the sins of flesh he had tasted in his life? Or was he destined to have his heart burned to ashes once again?

Marian attracted Robin with her decent, gorgeous and colorful beauty; there was no air of doom around her. Marian’s beauty wasn’t ethereally unfathomable and fatal, although her demeanor was often reserved as she wore a mask of a proper lady; yet, she always looked earthly.

Amazingly, Guy of Gisborne possessed a similar air of tragedy and doom. For an instant, he wondered whether Marian was attracted to Gisborne by the similar fatality and doom in his dark and handsome appearance. But the obvious distinction was that Gisborne didn’t have regalness in his appearance and Melisende wasn’t vile, for her eyes were cold yet innocent.

Robin felt as if he were a prey to all the demons of temptation. While his lips were almost mechanically framing polite, formal words, mingled with challenging and bold teasing and mocking, his eyes were studying the lady’s pleasant features. He was captivated by her beauty, but his face was as expressionless as ever. In her eyes he saw her beauty, but he also saw her heart, the heart of a woman who lived in unorthodox ways – like himself.

“So,” Robin began. The pale blue eyes sparkled and gazed eagerly at Melisende.

“So what?” Melisende arched an eyebrow, her violet eyes glowing with real amusement.

“Finally, we are alone,” he finished.

Melisende took a deep breath to calm the frantic beating of her heart. “Is it good or bad, my dear Earl of Huntingdon?” she asked, with the insolence of the very well-bred.

Robin grinned at her. “I would say that it is good,” he said softly, sipping his wine.

She smiled floutingly. “At least, this time, I don’t have to witness your moral plight, sire.”

He continued his smiling tête-à-tête. She was taunting him, and he had a right to shoot back. “Oh, you still remember the little scandal around my humble person in Limassol!” He clapped his hands, a theatrical gesture of derision. “But I have to agree that the circumstances of our today’s meeting are better. Today, a distinguished nobleman is entertaining a very pretty lady at a small private dinner, and at his king’s request. Everything is very proper.”

“Why should I forget about the scandal?”

“Even our king never said a word about it,” he teased her, a gentle reproof in his tone.

“Richard hates discussing all these things. He considers them trifles,” she parried. “I thought that you are close to my cousin and know him well.” She laughed. “After all, you are captain of the private guard and Richard’s grand favorite.”

A smiling Robin said innocently, “I know the king as well as any loyal subject should know, milady.” His smile grew wider. “You have all the luck to know our king better because you are his blood cousin, but I am not jealous. My loyalty means a great deal to our king, and this is more than enough for me.”

Melisende liked nothing better than such animated divertissements; his high-spirited and theatrical manner of leading a conversation impressed her. “You have a shrewd and witty mind.”

He cocked his head, grinning. “I have never thought of that.” He felt that their bickering and teasing ignited the torch of passion in her.

“Are you always so arrogant and so amusing?”

“You find me amusing, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. More than amusing, Sir Robin.”

Robin kept admiring her profile as she bent over her plate, and the way her long diamond earring cast prismatic hues over her velvety cheek. “Oh, milady, this is a blunder! You are more amusing than I am, at least right now. There is nothing more amusing than looking into your sparkling violet eyes, regretting that we are in the hostile desert where we can die but never find flowers, especially flowers of such a vibrant color as the color of your eyes is.”

“You are either completely insane or too extraordinary.” She laughed merrily, shaking her head. She was imitating the shock with his last theatrical improvisation and high-spirited speech, but she was more than simply pleased to talk to him – she craved to be in his presence. “Something tells me that you are a whimsical combination of madness and rarity.”

“The same can be said about you, my lady.”

She looked serious. “That’s true.”

“Well, we are somehow similar in some ways.”

“It seems so, Robin Hood.”

Robin felt anger throbbing in his veins. Despite the moments of stress, outwardly he looked calm; yet, his gaze turned icy. “Robin Hood is dead. He died when he left Nottingham more than six months ago.”

Melisende’s eye caught the change in Robin’s demeanor. She glanced into his eyes and noticed that they no longer twinkled and turned cold and dull. “By all means, sire, you confuse me. One minute you are cheeky and witty; in a moment you are heavy-hearted and strained, but you try to hide this with indifference and coldness.” She raised her goblet and took a small sip of wine. “Does my company instill tension and sadness into your heart?”

Robin was stunned with her observational skills. The king’s cousin had a quick mind and possessed uncanny shrewdness. Even Marian was not always able to perceive subtle changes in his demeanor. “Your concern for me overwhelms me, Lady Melisende,” he replied jocularly.

She shot him an attentive look. “It is not a question of concern, Lord Huntingdon. It is a statement of the fact and it is my observation.”

Startled, he looked at her in silence for a moment, like a man who was disturbed in his sleep. He had to adopt precautions against freedom of his speech when he talked to Marian, and she also often failed to gauge the subtle movements of his mood; it wasn’t the case with Melisende. “Ah, I see.”

“And you didn’t answer my question yet.” 

He permitted himself a small smile. “Certainly, I didn’t answer, but may I ask you what difference would it make if I give you my response?”

Her head held proudly high, Melisende gave him a coquettish smile. “No difference. Just that you may put your conscience at ease and I can put mine by understanding whether my presence really makes you so sad.” Her eyes were ablaze with fire. “Are you going to tell me anything?”

Robin chuckled. “Rest assured that your presence doesn’t sadden me. There is no way you can sadden me.” He drained his goblet. “I have nothing else to say.”

Melisende shrugged and smiled a little sadly. “If I cannot act ignobly, then I must act nobly.” She looked into his eyes. “My observation was simple. Your eyes lost their sparkle and turned cold because your spirits plummeted. The change concerned me as it would concern any other good Christian.”

Startled, Robin automatically lifted his goblet again only to find it empty. Melisende let out a laugh and took a decanter of wine, then refilled the goblet and handed it to Robin.

He took it and grinned. “Christian charity?”

“Something along those lines.”

“Lady Melisende, I bet you managed to make fools out of very many men with your keenness, but I fear you will be unable to make a fool out of me.”

“My brave and heroic Earl of Huntingdon, I didn’t mean that.”

Robin smiled with a Cheshire-cat smile, his eyes glittering. Maybe he was an utter fool who mistook a fantasy for his willingness; perhaps it was only his weakness towards a young and gorgeous lady. Whatever it was, she entertained him, and he liked her a great deal. “My beautiful and esteemed Countess de Bordeaux,” Robin parried, with a kind of sentimental fondness and copying her mocking manner. “You are truly the most delicious and specific woman I have ever met.”

“Milord, I am flattered that you are still pleased with me. May I hope for your continued goodwill?”

Robin let his gaze dwell on her neck and shoulders in a lingering way that suggested something rather more than simple curiosity and admiration. Melisende gave a light laugh and leaned back on the velvet-covered back of her chair; she was beset by a fresh temptation to watch him.

“Naturally,” he said. “I am afraid I will wear myself out trying to imagine the ways of flattering you.”

“That is where you are mistaken. I doubt you will ever tire your imagination. You are a dreamer.”

“But it is good to dream.” He frowned as Sir Edward Fitzwalter’s last words emerged in his mind. He forced his expression to blankness. “I would never refuse myself to dream.”

Melisende dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Everyone dreams, but not equally. Those who dream by night awake in the morning to find that it was vanity. Those who dream by day are dangerous, for they may act with open eyes, to make their dreams possible.”

Robin smiled. “Idealists love to act with open eyes.” He was astonished by his ability to produce arguments in favor of cloudless idealism he was trying to leave behind.

They didn’t see King Richard behind them as he stood near the entrance to the tent, his hands clasped behind his back, watching their interactions. There was a smile on his face.

As Robin and Melisende noticed the king, they stopped talking and stared at him. Richard crossed the tent and seated himself on his chair.

The king’s return was a good reason to leave. Robin rose abruptly and stood straight.

“I fear I must return to my duties,” Robin said, as though concluding an ordinary call. He looked at the king and flashed a smile. “My liege, let me bid you a good night. I am always at your service, if you need me.” He grinned at Melisende. “Lady Melisende, I hope to see you soon.”

Melisende got to her feet and swept a little curtsy. “Very soon, Captain Locksley. Good night to you, too,” she said formally, with her eyes blazing like topazes in the twilight.

“There is no one who can curtsey like Melisende,” Richard observed with a tiny smile. He tore his gaze from his cousin and glanced back at Robin. “Good night, Robin.”

Robin went out, and Melisende followed him with her eyes. Her heart and mind felt empty, save the thought about Robin of Locksley. Something told her that things could never be the same in her life again. Her pride and dignity made her look like an icy queen, but there was a flurry of emotions in her heart. She gripped the collar of her gown as she fought to conquer her emotion.

“Melisende, look at me,” Richard requested, in an intimate tone; his royal formality and stateliness were gone. “You like the Earl of Huntingdon, don’t you?”

Melisende turned to face her cousin. Before she could respond, Richard laughed at her.

“I should not presume so far, Richard. He is just a man.”

“But what a man he is!” The lion laughed. “You are not the first woman and not the last one who is affected so much by Robin. Hearts of many ladies swelled with an uncontrollable lust for him, depriving them of rationality. I know many ladies from my mother’s court who were infatuated with him.”

“Richard, please don’t say that!”

The king chuckled. “Don’t pretend in front of me, my dear. I know you too well.” He put a hand over hers. “I swear you do like Robin. It suits you to deny it, but I know the truth.”

The warmth and exhilaration of the king’s smile put Melisende at her ease. “Huntingdon is an interesting young man. Nothing more,” she admitted reluctantly.

Richard smiled indulgently. “There is nothing wrong with your feelings.”

She smiled back, with a touch of nervousness. “Maybe.”

“I think he would have been a good husband for any woman,” the king said cautiously.

She laughed outright, although there was little gaiety in her laugh. “Your beloved captain is spoiled by women’s attention. He will be as faithful to his wife as Uncle Henry was to Aunt Eleanor.”

“You are wrong, Melisende.”

“Why?”

“Because Robin will always feel responsible for everything related to his king, his king’s family, and England. He is loyal to me, and I think he would have been faithful to you if he married you.”

Melisende stared at her cousin in awe. “Do you imply that you want to marry me off to Huntingdon?”

Richard shrugged and his brows drew together. “I didn’t say that, but who knows? I am thinking.”

Trembling suddenly at the king’s words about Robin being her prospective husband, she looked absent-minded, quite fascinated by her cousin’s words. “Well, Richard, I don’t know what to say. If you command me to marry him, I will do that, for you and only for you,” she said after a pause.

“You are a liar.” The king let out a mischievous smile. “I know you, Melisende. Your fascination with Robin is clear. I think it is cruel towards me that you are trying to conceal your true impression and feelings from me, your cousin and true friend. But I understand that there is nothing else you could do right now, for you couldn’t show in Robin’s presence that you liked him so much.”

She sighed heavily, defeated. “I admit that Huntingdon is a handsome man.”

Richard chuckled. “Well, at least I know that you are not disgusted with my brave captain.”

With an impenetrable expression, Melisende turned away with a shrug. For a second, she thought she must be going mad that she could marry Robin of Locksley of all the high-ranking noblemen loyal to Richard. There was a red mist before her eyes and a storm of wild emotions in her heart. She realized suddenly, from the anguish and deep ache which had been tearing her proud heart apart since the night of their meeting in Limassol, just how fond she was of Robin Hood. She was amazed to find out that she felt positive of her possible marriage to Robin. She didn’t mind marrying either Robin or Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, but somehow she doubted that Robin would be her husband, for she was sure that her cousin had already set his heart on her marriage to Leicester.

During next two weeks, Robin often met Lady Melisende Plantagenet when she, usually together with Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, came from Acre to the Crusaders’ camp. Several times, Robin and Melisende attended private dinners with King Richard, where they discussed political situation, literature, music, and even war. Robin still felt uncomfortable in the presence of the king's cousin and his ex-lover, masking his discomfort with his usual cheeky grin, dry humor, and theatrics.

King Richard told Robin that he had expected Melisende’s arrival with great delight, for he loved his cousin and missed her. Richard always had tense relations with brothers. To compensate for the lack of brotherly affection in his family, Richard treasured and cherished good relations with his sisters and cousins, including Melisende Plantagenet.

Melisende delivered the urgent and alarming news from Aquitaine. Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine wrote that certain nobles of Bordeaux and other regions of Aquitaine didn’t recognize Melisende’s legal rights on County of Bordeaux because she was a young lady and, thus, was not supposed to rule over large, rich territories and estates. Richard had already known that many Poitevin vassals hadn’t wanted to acknowledge her as their lord liege, and the latest news worried him a great deal. Most importantly, the king was well aware that many of those vassals had already pledged their loyalty to Prince John. In fact, many Poitevin vassals were on the verge of rebellion against Richard.

The king invited Melisende to Acre because he planned to marry her off to one of his most loyal subjects. It was a matter of great importance to give Melisende’s hand in a political marriage, so that they could defend her legal rights as Countess de Bordeaux and, of course, guarantee the loyalty of those rebellious nobles to King Richard in Aquitaine. Melisende’s husband would become Count de Bordeaux through marriage to her, also a vassal to Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine and the King Richard. The lady’s husband had to be the most loyal subject to Richard, a high-born nobleman whom the king trusted to control over vast territories and many vassals; such a man should have been close to the king, in the highest royal favor.

There were only a few suitable candidates for Melisende’s hand – the Earl of Leicester, the Earl of Oxford, the Earl of Albemarle, the Earl of Richmond, and several other noblemen. At first, Richard planned to give his cousin’s hand to the Earl of Leicester, his close friend and grand favorite, but later everything changed.

King Richard remembered that Robin had been in love with Lady Marian of Knighton since childhood, which had prevented him from considering Robin for any political marriage before. But the newly discovered circumstances – Marian’s marriage to Gisborne – prompted Richard to change his mind about giving Melisende to someone else. Robin was heartbroken and devastated, but the king believed that a marriage to a right woman would heal his favorite’s heart.

Robin was an unmarried nobleman and needed to marry in any case, at least to sire a male heir to his estates. Robin’s childhood sweetheart preferred another man over him, and a marriage based on love was probably out of question in the nearest future. Melisende turned twenty, but she still was unmarried; she had been betrothed twice in the past, but those arrangements were dissolved by King Richard and Queen Eleanor several years ago. Everything was as simple as sunset and nightfall: Robin was a free man, Melisende needed a husband, and Richard needed the utterly loyal Count de Bordeaux to ensure that there would be no rebellion in Aquitaine. Robin was an ideal candidate for that marriage.

Taking into account Robin’s true parentage, a political marriage to a high-ranking noblewoman of royal blood seemed to be even more suitable for Robin. After all, Queen Eleanor had asked Richard to take Robin under his protection; the Queen Mother had also made a request to arrange a political marriage for Robin, and Richard was going to grant her wish.

Moreover, the famous adventures in Sherwood Forest made Robin the enemy of Prince John. Despite the fact that Robin had been pardoned by the King of England, the potential threat from Prince John didn’t disappear. If Prince John had ever ascended the throne, he could have persecuted Robin and confiscated his lands again. Bonding with the Plantagenet family through a marriage to the king’s cousin helped neutralize the threat from John. King Richard wished to secure Robin’s position in the high society and protect him from all potential threats. A political marriage to the lady of royal blood served all those purposes very well.

§§§

King Richard summoned Robin of Locksley to his tent in the late afternoon, intending to talk to him about his prospective marriage to Melisende Plantagenet. He decided to speak directly and explain to Robin why it was a good political marriage for everyone and, especially, for Robin. The lion wasn’t going to trap Robin in the forced marriage to Melisende, hoping that the younger man would agree to announce the betrothal.

Robin stepped into the king’s tent and immediately spotted his liege sitting amongst a pile of the maps and parchments on a table set up at one end of the tent. He stood for a minute, waiting for the king to acknowledge his presence, but Richard was silent. The young captain wasn’t skillful at reading his liege's mind; the silence disturbed him. They had a close, friendly relationship since Robin’s return to Acre, and there was no sign that the lion was displeased. Yet, he got the silent message that he was supposed to wait to be acknowledged, which could have meant the king’s displeasure or implied the seriousness of the case.

Robin moved to the side of the tent and paused as a young page scurried out of the tent, carrying a few documents. He decided to break the silence by himself. “My liege,” he greeted, bowing his head.

“Lord Locksley,” Richard said officially. He didn’t look up from his maps and parchments.

Robin clasped his hands behind him and stood in front of his king. “I came at your request.”

Richard made a note with an eagle-feathered quill and raised his head, looking at Robin. His expression was impenetrable, his gaze blank. “We need you for an important conversation.”

“I am always at your disposal, sire.” Robin was confused.

“Take a seat there,” Richard offered in a different tone – friendly and impersonal. Then he looked down at his parchment and made a mark on the map. “Pour out two goblets of wine for us.”

Robin stood up and came to the table with a decanter of French Bordeaux. He filled two silver goblets wine and walked to the king, then handed to him one of the goblets; then he returned to his chair.

“Good wine.” Robin took a small sip of wine and smiled. He had always liked Richard’s wine collection that the lion had carried with his retinue from Aquitaine on the Crusade. Richard had an exquisite taste for wine, unlike many Englishmen.

Richard laughed. “We are not like our brother John who can drink water from the Thames and compare it with the finest wines from the Loire Valley, Gascony, and Aquitaine.”

“English wine is like vinegar,” Robin remarked.

The king burst into a loud laughter. “Both true and witty.”

“Your wine collection is admirable, milord.”

The monarch laughed. “You have a good taste in wines, Robin.”

“Only thanks to you, milord.”

King Richard rose to his feet and poured another goblet of wine, then settled back in his chair and lazily stretched his long legs. “We are surrounded by enemies and traitors,” he said in a voice that vibrated like a sword blade. The situation was clearly unpleasant, and he didn’t even attempt to hide it from Robin. “We have enemies everywhere – in the Holy Land, France, England, Normandy, Anjou, Maine, Brittany, and even in Aquitaine. We have to ensure the loyalty of our nobles.”

“Unfortunately, there are always disloyal vassals.”

“There are too many traitors in our realm, Robin, but we cannot execute everyone.” Richard shot an apprising look at Robin. “That’s why we need real loyalty – loyalty that cannot be bought,” he said, fire in his blue eyes. “We need to ensure the loyalty of our Poitevin vassals in our southern lands.”

“Sire?” Robin looked a bit confused.

“You are not married or betrothed. Is that so?”

Robin nodded. “I am a free man.” He almost let out a little scream of fright and amusement as he realized what his liege implied. “My second betrothal to Lady Marian of Knighton was dissolved.”

“We will be straightforward with you, Robin. We want you to marry our cousin Melisende.”

Robin's face was crossed by a momentary frown; he averted his eyes. He understood the reasons why Richard wanted him to marry Lady Melisende, but he wasn’t sure that he was ready to marry anyone in the future, even if his supposed bride was the king’s cousin. Marian had betrayed him and had ruined all his dreams for a peaceful and happy life together. Since then, Robin prohibited himself from thinking of any other women as more than his lovers and mistresses.

“Robin?”

Shaking off his distraction, Robin turned to face the lion. “Yes? I am sorry.”

Richard’s mouth curved into a small crooked smile at the sight of Robin’s perplexity. It was a rare occasion when Robin, always so full of himself and flashing his insolent, cheeky grins, was absent-minded and abashed. “We were talking about your prospective marriage.”

Robin blinked. “With all due respect, sire, I don’t think that I am the best candidate for this marriage. I am just a mere Saxon nobleman, without royal blood in my veins. You may easily find a better match for Lady Melisende,” he said, managing her most determined expression.

“Why are you suddenly so modest, Robin?” The lion let out a quiet laughter. “You are a high-ranking Saxon nobleman, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.” The young man lowered his gaze.

“I think you, my dear Robin, are the best candidate for Melisende’s hand,” Richard said in a personal manner, dropping his royal etiquette. “You are 7th Earl of Huntingdon, and you were born to a family of old Saxon nobles. There are not many powerful earls in my realm, and you are one of them.”

“It is not about nobility and rank, my liege.”

“What is your concern, lad?”

“I fear I will be a terrible husband for Lady Melisende. She will be unhappy in our marriage as I am a difficult man to understand and live with.”

The king rose to his feet and leaned across the table, closer to Robin. “You are not sure about this marriage because you lost the woman whom you loved and hoped to marry for a long time.”

The young captain lowered his sandy-haired head. “You are right, sire.”

Richard put a reassuring, comforting hand on the shoulder of the younger man. “You cannot imagine marrying someone else. You are heartbroken and disappointed. You don’t believe in love.”

Knowing his liege for so many years, Robin was still amazed that Richard understood him so well and could easily guess where his train of thought was going. “You know me too well. He gave the king a disconcerted look. “I am not sure that I will be able to love another woman, to love again.”

The king took a deep breath, clasping his hands in front of him. “It is possible to love more than one woman, Robin.”

“You think so, sire?”

“Yes, I do.” The lion nodded. “Robin, now you are devastated and emotionally fragile. You cannot look at many things with an unbiased eye. You perceive life and many events in a perverted, if not entirely wrong, light because you are affected by your personal tragedy. Over time you will realize that you may fall in love with one woman and then fall out of love with her.”

“Love can die, right?” Robin arched a brow.

The king speculated, “Yes, it can. Love can die or run out. You may also find a new love, stronger than the one you had ever felt before.” He stilled for a moment. “People change and mature. The world changes as well. Everything changes, Robin.” He gave his captain almost a paternal smile. “Besides, you are young and not very experienced in having serious relations with women.”

“I had relations with many women, but I loved only one of them.”

“You might have had many love affairs, but not many serious relations.”

Robin nodded. “Indeed.”

“Robin, you blossom in adoration to yourself, you enjoy female attention, and women are drawn to you like bees to honey.” The lion chuckled. “Yet, it is a paradox for me that you don’t understand women’s psychology and how the mind of an intelligent lady works. You are a poor mind reader.”

“Why do you think so?”

Looking at Robin’s frightened and confused face, the King of England half repented that he had offered Robin that marriage. Maybe he was not right in his reasoning and decision. He poured out another goblet of wine and handed it to Robin; then he settled back in his chair.

“Drink it. You will feel better.”

Heat flooded his face as Robin saw sincere emotions – concern – on the king’s face instead of his usual impassive expression. “Thank you,” he said gratefully, taking a large sip of wine and luxuriating in the pleasant sensation of red liquid running down his throat.   

“Better?”

“Definitely.”

Richard smiled. “Wonderful.”

Robin sighed heavily. “Are you serious about this marriage?"

“I cannot be more serious.”

With a sickening clarity, Robin realized once again that his life path with Marian had diverged. They were destined to fall in love at their early youth, when they had been still full of insatiable curiosity; when the wonder of their innocence had been still unsullied; when their young bodies had been overpowered by desires they couldn’t have succumbed to without frightening and shaming themselves; and when so little had been enough for them, such as a touch of a hand, a smile, or a chaste kiss. But everything changed. Robin and Marian had matured, their perception of the world had evolved into darker colors; they had lost themselves in an ocean of careless youth which had estranged them. Robin suspected that _the dead fire would never spring into flame;_ the time of his love for Marian was probably gone, unless there would be divine intervention.

The idea of the marriage to Melisende wasn’t as foreign as it seemed to Robin half an hour ago. Robin chided himself for the strangeness of his thoughts. Melisende attracted his deep interest, and he truly liked her. He also knew that he had to stop thinking of Marian. He took an oath that he would forget his former betrothed, after all. Maybe another marriage would help him forget Marian and pay her with the same coin: if she married Gisborne, he could also marry another woman and prove to Marian that he wasn’t going to grieve the loss of her love throughout his entire life. It was a political marriage, and the king asked him to marry his own cousin, which was a great honor.

“Will Lady Melisende give her consent to our marriage?” Robin asked, his voice sounding like some amazed murmur.

The king arched a brow. “Are you sure? I won’t force you to marry my cousin.”

“Yes, I am.”

“It is a good match, Robin. You will be grateful later, lad.” Richard said gave him a large smile, with a trace of mischievous spark. “It is all you, Robin – England and duty and love together, hand-in-hand. You are a difficult man for a marriage.”

“Marian was mad at me when I joined the Crusade because I felt that it was the right thing to do as an act of duty to my country. Even after my return, she didn’t understand me,” Robin said sorrowfully. “I was also greatly upset that she still thought that I might have chosen my duty over her… in case I had to make this choice.”

The lion raised his eyebrows in a quizzical look. “And what will you do if England needs you and your wife presses you to ignore your duty?”

The flicker of confusion in his eyes, Robin stared at his liege, but he didn’t see him, his face having a faraway look. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I would hate myself if I neglected my duty.”

The lion’s mouth slowly creased in a half-smile. “You will choose duty almost always.” He sighed. “You can choose your personal interests only if you are permitted to act differently by your king and only if you are sure that the situation in England won’t worsen without your contribution.”

“I think so.”

Richard let out a breath of relief that Robin had understood his idea. “I may be considered a great warrior, but I understand very well how the brain of an intelligent lady works,” the king said, with a loud laugh. “I have always been very close to my beloved mother, Queen Eleanor.”

Robin gave a small laugh. “I know, milord.”

The king continued their philosophical chat. “Every woman – a noblewoman, a merchant’s daughter, or a peasant – wants a man to love her more than a country or his duty, even if she never speaks her mind.” He pointed a finger at Robin. “ _You are an England’s man through and through_. This is your main problem in private life. Not every woman is able to understand you and accept your principles, even if these principles are about duty and honor.”

“You are right.” With a heavy heart, Robin recognized that Marian might have chosen Gisborne for the same reason the king verbalized.

“You need to have a wife who will be as devotedly loyal to England and the nation as you are. And who can be better than a lady of royal blood and my cousin?”

Robin shook his head. “From this side, that is an ideal option.”

“Robin,” the king addressed him in a deep, warm, caressing voice, “Lady Marian married your sworn enemy and a high traitor to England and your king, and she chose her path that is different from yours.” He sighed heavily. “And even if she is free from her treacherous husband after Guy of Gisborne is executed for high reason, are you sure that you will be able to forget her betrayal? You may be able to forgive, but not to forget and trust her again.”

“I don’t know.” Robin shook his head in uncertainty. Everything was messed up in his head.

“You have to mature more, Robin, to be able to forget personal betrayal and understand its roots,” Richard opined. “To achieve that, you have to lose some of your dreams. As soon as you become more disillusioned and able to accept reality, not trying to make this world ideal, you will look at Lady Marian’s betrayal from a different angle.”

“From a different angle?”

“Yes,” the king confirmed. “Robin, you must finally understand that you cannot always get what you want. You must accept the fact that nobody is obliged to like you and take your side, even if you are such a handsome,  glorified, and brave hero.” He trailed off, giving Robin enough time to digest his words. “Even if it is painful for you, you have to realize that not everyone is obliged to like, respect, and accept your principles and choices.”

“Oh, it is difficult.”

Richard smiled knowingly. “It is really difficult for a man who is so self-assured, righteous, and full of himself as you are, Robin of Locksley. But once you come to realize that, you will look at the world and your own life in a different way. Then you will also reassess Lady Marian’s choice, although it is a very unfortunate choice in my opinion.”

“I don’t know, milord. I don’t know.”

“I know, my friend,” the king said with an indulgent smile. “I cannot say that you are blameless for the failure of your relationship with your former betrothed, and you know your own faults very well.”

Robin sat quietly, staring at the ground. Thoughts and memories of Marian were hovering over him like a dark cloud. “I did many wrong things to Marian.”

The king brought his goblet of wine to his lips. “You shouldn’t have told Lady Marian that you would do everything for the king and England as often as you did that, Robin.”

Robin blanched. “How do you know that?”

The lion smirked; he set an empty goblet down. “I know you too well.” He looked intently into Robin’s eyes. “You can proclaim your undying and unconditional loyalty to me in the presence of the king’s men, who have the same mindset as you have, but not among the people from Sherwood or from small English shires, for they cannot understand you.”

Robin’s shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “Maybe you are right, sire.”

“I am right,” the king retorted with devilish assurance. “Our men understand you, but many others are only annoyed with your speeches.”

“At times, Marian and my friends from Sherwood were annoyed,” Robin acknowledged reluctantly.

Richard laughed. “Of course, especially if you bragged that you and I are friends.”

Robin was embarrassed, and his cheeks flushed. “I… I…” He stumbled with words.

“You have a vain nature, Robin. You like when you are praised; you may also praise yourself.”

“Oh,” Robin averted his gaze; he dissolved into some embarrassing display of emotion.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Robin. Nobody will ever learn what we discuss in private.”

Robin shrugged. “I am only a little embarrassed.”   

The king laughed. “It has always been difficult to embarrass you and mock you, Robin.” He scoffed. “And I like these qualities in you.”

Robin’s face brightened. “I am glad that I entertain you, my liege.”

The lion chuckled. “I am always enjoying our conversations, Robin, and you are always enjoying yourself when you are talking to me.”

“Sire, you are the only man in the world who can make me feel _like an utter fool_.”

“I know, Robin,” Richard drawled. “And I often put you into embarrassing and challenging situations and arguments. Then I watch your reactions and your maneuvers to get yourself out of the mess.” He smiled indulgently at the younger man. “Truth be told, I always enjoy doing that.”

The pale blue eyes sparkled. “Well, I know that, sire. It is good that I entertain you.”

The king winked at his captain. “It is delightful.”

“It is great.” Robin had always enjoyed his private conversations with the king, especially their philosophical chats and the king’s life contemplation. He was pleased that the lion accepted and enjoyed his mischievous and light manner of leading a conversation.

“Robin, Lady Marian betrayed you and took herself out of your life,” the king continued, jumping to the previous topic of their conversation. “And she married your archenemy and traitor to the crown before breaking her betrothal to you. Although you both are at fault for the tragic end of your relations, there is no doubt that the lady greatly wronged you.”

Robin stared at his liege, his blue eyes full of endless sadness. “Marian lied to me. She threw my love away. She tramped my heart with her feet and married Gisborne.”

The king saw the raw pain in his captain’s eyes. “I have never met Lady Marian, and I cannot judge her character properly, but I know what she did to you. The fact is that she committed a dishonest act towards you – she deceived you.” His face expression turned tart, if not harsh. “You both are at fault that you failed to sort out your differences, but I can say with great certainty that _she doesn’t deserve you and that she doesn’t understand you very well, Robin._ Maybe she doesn’t even deserve Guy of Gisborne’s love, although I may be mistaken as I don’t know many things about the said lady.”

The young captain shut his eyes for a moment. “Her betrayal hurts so much.”

“Believe me that it will hurt much less over time.”

“I hope so, milord.”

Richard smiled. “Robin, an arranged political marriage is much better than loneliness or a loveless marriage to someone else,” he said quietly. His face turned serious. “And political marriage is more beneficial and more pleasant than marriage to a lady with a divided heart. There is nothing worse than being married to a woman who is torn between two men.”

Robin gazed down at his own hands, both regret and relief surging through him. Marian was a woman with a divided heart if she had married Gisborne and hadn’t denied that she loved Robin in her own way. Even though Robin regretted Marian’s choice, he didn’t wish to share her heart with any other man, particularly with Gisborne. He was strangely relieved that he had finally accepted Marian’s choice. Although he still felt the ache of despair as to his being able to get over Marian entirely, there was evidently some mental separation between the past and the present in Robin’s head. There was a barrier to complete confidence that he could be happy in a marriage to someone else, but hope revived in his consciousness and heart. And with that glorious equipment of hope, wanting to find the solace in female companionship and eradicate the gloom in his life, Robin was finally ready to move on.

Hope that Robin might have lived without Marian blossomed in his heart. “I will marry Lady Melisende out of my loyalty to you, sire, and if she accepts my proposal.”

“Very well, then.” The king’s lips twitched in a half-smile. “She will agree.”

“When are you going to set up the date of the wedding?”

“At first, we will announce the betrothal, in the next few days. The wedding will take place here, in Acre, in about three months. The sooner you marry my cousin, the sooner my rebellious Poitevin vassals will be under my control.”

“Sire, you have my word that I will do my best to make your cousin as content as I can, taking into account some… unfortunate events in my private life.”

“No worries. I understand.”

Robin bit his bottom lip. “I promise that I won’t be involved in the public scandals, like… the scandal in Limassol. It is a matter of honor for me, sire.”

“Very well.” The lion’s mouth pinched into a little smile. “After your marriage, I expect you to behave as a nobleman of your high station. If you ever want to take a mistress, you must be discreet.”

Robin surprised with his words and gave him an incredulous stare. “I am an honest man. I don’t need a mistress if I am married.”

“Maybe something good shall come out of this marriage.” Richard’s lips twisted into a smirk.

Robin made no reply and drummed his fingers against the table, tiredness and mental exhaustion catching up with him. “I will marry Lady Melisende for England, for my king, and… for myself,” he uttered at last, a brief twitch of pain in his face before his face turned blank again.

“So be it, Robin of Locksley,” the king proclaimed cheerfully. “Let us become not only friends but also cousins through your marriage.” We are not only a king and a favorite subject, not only friends, my dear Robin, but you don’t need to know about that, at least not now, Richard thought.

§§§

It was already late when Robin left the royal tent after the conversation about his engagement to King Richard's cousin. He shivered in the cold of the March desert night, although he was accustomed to the extreme climate of the Holy Land – the overpowering heat and the devastating cold.

Even despite all his doubts, fears and apprehensions in the light of his recent conversation with Richard, Robin could not help but notice the solemn beauties of the night. The pale-green moonlight of Acre shed its weird luster over the dark landscape, and gave an air of fabulous mystery to the surroundings. His ear attuned to the sounds reverberating through the night, he heard quiet whisperings of his fellow Crusaders, who sat huddled around bonfires lit near their tents.

Robin returned to his tent, where his friends – Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, and Carter Leighton of Stretton, Baron Clifton, as well as Little John and Much – impatiently waited for him. He nodded, greeting them, and, without any word, crossed the tent in three strides.

He stopped near a wide canopied wooden bed covered with blue damask tapestries, with a headboard carved in a whimsical design. He seated himself on the edge and rubbed his eyes, then put his head into his hands for a short moment. Not bothering himself to remove his chainmail and boots, Robin lay back on the bed and leaned on a blue silk pillow, stretching his legs along the covers. In his tent, there were several exquisite pieces of furniture, Turkish rugs, and countless soft blue silk pillows spread atop of the carpets that lay on the ground. He was one of the very few people who had such a comfortable tent in the Crusaders’ camp.

Robin's tent was well-furnished thanks to his high standing at the king's war court and thanks to his well-known status of the king's grand favorite. Although he didn't enjoy his presence in the Holy Land, he had to acknowledge that his living conditions were now more comfortable than those in the outlaws’ camp in Sherwood. His old bunk in the woods was hard and inconvenient; he was appreciative of being able to sleep in a comfortable bed, with clean silk sheets and soft pillows.

"Robin, you spent so much time with the king! Is everything alright?" Much was anxious.

"We had an interesting conversation," Robin responded.

"What happened?" Carter asked, anxious.

Robin didn't look at his friends and instead stared at the red flame of the only torch burning in the tent. "I am marrying soon," he announced, without any preamble.

A small silence hung over them as they digested the news. Everyone looked absolutely perplexed, at a loss for words.

"What?" Carter frowned.

"Impossible! Impossible!" Much muttered, his eyes wide.

Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, raised his brows. "Please explain."

Robin turned to face them, his face expressionless. "I am marrying soon," he repeated.

"Ouch, no! Robin, you are not even betrothed! How is that possible? Whom are you marrying? Why are you marrying? Why now?" Much threw questions one after another.

"I am marrying Lady Melisende Plantagenet. Our official betrothal will be announced very soon. The ceremony and the feast will take place in Acre in several months," Robin informed.

"The king's beloved cousin," Carter commented with a large smile.

"It… must be… a great honor." Little John, who usually was not prone to any display of emotions; he looked genuinely shocked.

Robert laughed. "Yeah, I kind of suspected that it would happen."

Robin arched a brow. "Suspected?"

"Yes, I did," Robert confirmed. "Lady Melisende's husband has to be one of the king's most loyal high-ranking noblemen. The question was who would be a fortunate soul. I have always suspected that it would be you, Robin, or I." He laughed at the irony of the situation. "Robin, you are a lucky man. I envy you in good ways as it is a magnificent match. I would eagerly marry Lady Melisende if the king chose me."

Robin smiled as he recognized the notes of a sharp annoyance in Robert's voice – jealousy. "I am sorry if it displeases you, Robert. It is the king's wish and I have to obey."

Robert burst into booming laughter. "Robin, why so humble all of a sudden? Where is your usual witty reply? Where is your cheeky grin? What caprice is it?"

Robin grinned. "You put me to shame, Robert."

"Actually, I am happy for you, Robin. Truly happy." Robert chuckled softly. "This is the best what could happen in your private life, especially given the certain delicate circumstances."

"He cannot marry her! He doesn't love her! He doesn't even know her!" Much blurted out.

"It is not about love – it is about politics. It is the king's wish, and a vassal owes obedience to his lord and sovereign," Robin said steadily. "I am a man of duty. I will obey my king."

Much shook his head. "But you don't love her! You love Marian!"

Robert rolled his eyes. "Much, shut up."

"Much, think a little before what you speak," Little John snapped reproachfully.

"I am not saying anything. I am not saying anything," Much murmured, his cheeks turning crimson.

"As I understand, Lady Marian married Sir Guy of Gisborne. She took herself out of the picture in Robin's life. Life doesn't stop after her marriage. Robin has to move on, and it is a good chance," Carter said diplomatically. "Perhaps, Lady Marian even switched sides and joined the king's enemies."

Robin was still, very still. He hated when he was reminded of Marian and Gisborne.

Much shook his head in disbelief, staring at Robin with a mixture of astonishment and skepticism in his big blue eyes. "I have met Lady Melisende once in the camp. She is beautiful, cold, and regal. But I don't know whether Robin will be happy in a loveless marriage to a lady whom he doesn't even know."

"I spent most of my early youth in Aquitaine. I have known Lady Melisende for many years, since her childhood," Robert said. A smile graced his face for a split second before fading to a no-nonsense demeanor. "She is an amazing woman – beautiful, educated, intelligent, spirited, bold, compassionate, and honest. When a woman is beautiful and has a soul, how can she ever fail to be a good wife?"

"She might be great and beautiful, but Robin doesn't love her," Much countered.

"Love matches are rare among high-ranked nobles. Robin is very close to the king, and it is a privilege to be married to the king's cousin," John intervened.

"John is right. Marriages of convenience are the backbone of the noble society." Robert winked and smiled at John who smiled back at him. "Even if you marry at the king's order, it doesn't mean that you will be unhappy in your marriage, especially with such a great woman as Lady Melisende. Some couples fall in love with one another only in several years after the marriage."

"It is not about love," Robin muttered under his breath.

"Do you really want to marry her, Robin?" Carter inquired.

"Yeah, why not?" Robin laughed halfheartedly. "You know something… My marriage to Lady Melisende is not the worst thing that can happen to me."

Much looked concerned. "Oh, Robin… You know… I am only worried about you."

Robin laughed as he remembered his own initial thoughts about this marriage. He was surprised that now the prospect of being married to Melisende seemed in the colors – he was really delighted and satisfied, his heart merging these feelings in a strange, almost mystic joy. "I can imagine how many noblemen implored King Richard over and over again to permit them to court and marry Lady Melisende, but they were refused. They could raise a terrible fuss, claiming that such an amazing match was worth at least being considered, but they were still rejected."

Robert looked at Robin, lingering his gaze on Robin's pale blue eyes that were not sparkling but also were not dull. "Many men were intriguing for Lady Melisende's hand, but the king didn't permit those proposals to proceed," he informed. "The king once told me that they were waiting for a good match in terms of both social standing and personal compatibility. If Richard chose you, then it means that he believes that you are exactly such a man, Robin."

"Interesting information," Robin retorted. "Truth be told, I am not eager to marry, but I don't object fiercely if the king wants me to do this. Actually, I find Melisende interesting."

"At least you, Robin, like Lady Melisende," Much said with pretended cheerfulness.

"For one thing, she is too beautiful. It is difficult to find such a rare beauty," Carter opined, a smile lighting up at the corners of his mouth. "Robin cannot complain about the king's choice."

Robin smiled. "Definitely, I cannot complain. From what I can say about her, Lady Melisende is not only one of the most beautiful noblewomen in Aquitaine and, perhaps, in the Angevin Empire, but she also has a way of setting herself off. As she opens her mouth, she can have anyone eating out of her hand." He laughed. "She even made me feel truly embarrassed on one occasion."

Carter chuckled. "She is quite a lady if she embarrassed you, Robin, of all people."

Robin let out a small laugh. "Oh, she seems to be a remarkable woman."

"As a matter of fact, Melisende has one thing that so many other beauties would die for but never get," Robert said levelly. "She has a soul."

Robin smiled; his smile was satisfied, but there was the scrutiny in his eyes. "A rare thing among women," he said bitterly. "I hope there is no touch of a serpent in her young heart."

"She is cunning, like our king, but she is honest. There is nothing vile and treacherous in her," Robert said confidently. "Robin, she will be a good wife. She will understand you like very few women can. She might become your good confident and a staunch ally."

Robin was astounded. "A confident and an ally?"

"Robin, you are a man of duty to your country and your king in the first place, and only then a fiancé and a husband. You may love a woman, but this love has to compete with your love for England and your loyalty to the king," Robert said, the corners of his thin lips hitching upward in a smirk. "You need a wife who understands your ultimate loyalty to England. The same is my case."

"The king said the same when we talked," Robin enlightened.

"Well, King Richard has always understood you very well," Robert said.

"This marriage is not bad at all," Little John broke in; his manner of speaking was cautious. "It is much better than marrying… someone who showed her sudden sympathies to a traitor and a murderer." He wasn't a man of many words, but when he said something, he got straight to the point.

Robin smiled. "Thank you, John."

John smiled back. "Welcome, Robin."

Much sighed. "I am not happy that Robin has to marry a woman he doesn't know very well. He will spend much time with her and not with us, not with me. But it looks like it has to be done. I trust King Richard that he will always recommend Robin the best for Robin," he twittered.

"Much, don't rant," Carter said. "The king offers what is the best for England, for your king, and for Robin. And Robin needs to marry to produce heirs, and the king's cousin is an ideal option."

"I assure you that Robin may ask the king for any other unmarried woman in the kingdom, and she shall be his. He has merely to choose," Robert declared boldly. "But this is the best option."

A new confidence had fallen upon him, Robin smiled weakly. "Lady Melisende will stay with us in Acre after the wedding. Maybe it would be an exciting adventure to marry her in the Holy Land."

Robert laughed. "She is a high-spirited lady and is like Richard in many aspects. She would always prefer an eventful beginning of her married life over a dull one."

"Well, Lady Melisende and our liege have much in common, and I like that. I would not be happy to marry an empty-headed pretty doll, even the king's cousin," Robin mused, with a bright chilly smile. "Now, lads, let's celebrate my betrothal and marriage."

§§§

Robin and his friends were talking about his upcoming marriage, eating and drinking. On the table in the middle of the tent lay a partially eaten small feast: a roasted pheasant, various cheeses and a half empty bottle of wine; the king didn't approve of excessive drinking, but he also didn't protest if his men indulged themselves in the pleasantries of life from time to time.

Suddenly, Robin stiffened, peering out into the semidarkness. "What is it?" He placed a silver goblet on the table.

Much shrugged. "Fighting?"

There was a hissing clash of metal upon metal somewhere in the distance. Swords clashed, and people screamed. Metallic sound was becoming louder and louder, and cries of agony came from outside the tent, joined now by shouts of alarm.

"Saracen raid! Saracens in the camp!" one of the king's guards yelled.

"The attack on the camp!" another guard warned.

"Bloody hell," Robert cursed.

"But we have a ceasefire since last week," Much noticed.

"Not anymore," Carter growled.

"The king!" Robin immediately sprang to his feet and grabbed his bow, a bundle of arrows, and his scimitar. "Much and Carter, you go with me to King Richard's tent. John, find Edmund and go with him to the back of the king's tent."

"What a great end of the evening," Little John grumbled.

Leicester and Robin shared brief glances, silently coordinating a course of action.

"My men and I will protect the king's tent from the back," Leicester barked before storming out of the tent.

In a moment, Robin rushed to the exit; Much, Carter, and John followed. Robin and his friends ran towards the king's tent. They heard the rumble of running and marching feet, and then a wave of the noise burst through the darkness – the loud, ululating scream of "Allah! Allah! Allah!"

"Everyone out of the tents! Out! Out!" Robin screamed over and over again.

"Leave the tents! Leave!" They heard Robert de Beaumont's screams in the other part of the camp.

They caught glimpses of the Saracens running into the tents of the sleeping Crusaders. They heard the dying cries of their own men killed in their sleep on their makeshift beds. Still sleepy, many guards grabbed their weapons and ran outside, catching themselves in the dark chaos around and immediately starting to fight; many of them even didn't wear a chainmail, having no time to dress it.

"Out! Out!" Robin glared frantically around as he ran. "Get out of the tents!"

They headed to the king's tent located in the center of the camp. The noise grew louder and louder, yet they didn't see all the intruders and couldn’t estimate the real extent of danger. Finally, a solid wave of the Saracens emerged from the eastern part of the camp, which faced the walls of Acre. The camp was overrun with ghostly figures, barely visible in the darkness.

There was a bloodthirsty massacre near King Richard's tent: more than thirty Saracens were involved in the fierce fight with around twenty king's guards, and more battle cries were heard in the distance, signaling that there were many more enemies around. The Crusaders’ camp was attacked by a large army of the Saracen mercenaries.

"Hurry! The king's tent! Now!" Robin commanded, taking several arrows from Much's arms.

Robin ran faster and faster, his heart pounding frantically in his chest, nearly breathless with anxiety and rage that scalded through him, nearly blinding him with its sharpness. He had no time to stop near the outnumbered Crusaders fighting near the king's tent. The king's life was his first priority.

"Edmund, join Leicester from the back of the king's tent!" Robin ordered, his sharp, clear gaze fixing on the corpses near the king's tent. "Hurry! The king's tent!"

Robin stormed inside the king's tent, followed by Much and Carter. The picture before their eyes was unbelievable and spine-chilling: the weaponless King of England stood rooted near his bed, surrounded by three Saracen assassins, and Sir Edward of Scrivelsby, one of the oldest soldiers in the king's private guard, was holding the blade near Richard's throat.

King Richard was fearless in spite of being defenseless and surrounded by his would-be murderers. He didn't look frightened and panic-stricken at all in the eyes of death. His expression was confident and cold, and it turned sarcastic as his gaze fell on Edward of Scrivelsby's smug face.

The young captain knelt down and hastily drew his bow; Carter and Much crouched behind him, waiting with baited breath for Robin's shooting.

Robin tried to steady his breathing, to keep himself from trembling. His body was shaking with the intensity of emotions, which threatened to take over him, his heart beating so fast that he was certain it was going to explode. With a great deal of effort, Robin took a hold of himself, knowing that he was the only man who could save the king's life at that moment; only he could make a deadly accurate shot that would cause the blade slip from Scrivelsby's arms.

Robin took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart, and then he targeted the blade at the king's throat, pulled back his bow cord a couple of inches to his ear and fired an arrow. It flew straight and true at the last minute before Edward of Scrivelsby was about to slice Richard's throat. The sword dropped to the ground, and Richard ducked, his eyes scanning the tent and briefly locking with Robin's.

"Damn you, Locksley! Damn you!" Sir Edward of Scrivelsby stared directly at Robin, his eyes glittering venomously. “Damn you!”

"Foul traitor!" Robin roared in rage. He shot two more arrows that hit Scrivelsby in both legs to prevent him from escaping and participating in the battle; the traitor gave a scream of pain and tumbled to the ground. He didn't want Edward dead, so that he could interrogate him.

King Richard chuckled. "Well done, Robin."

"Always welcome." Robin thought that he heard a note of pride in his liege's voice.

Still weaponless, King Richard took a step back from one of the assassins who lunged at him with a diagonal blow. At the same time, Robin's arrow struck the foe at the base of his throat, flinging him down to the ground with gouts of blood spurting from his mouth. Richard cast a brief glance of gratitude at Robin, and then he swiftly began to move towards the table where his sword lay on.

At Robin's order, Much and Carter drew their swords and charged into the battle, flying at the speed of velocity towards the king who already had his sword unsheathed and started fighting with simultaneously two assassins. Six more Saracen assassins forced entry from the back side of the tent, but they were stopped and attacked by the Earl of Leicester, Edward of Wessex, Little John, and several other Crusaders.

Robin looked at Edmund of Cranfield who crouched next to him. "What are you doing here? Go to the king and protect him."

Edmund shook his head in denial. "Much and Carter are with the king. I am going to help you shoot." He drew his bow and aimed at their enemies.

Robin gave him a sidelong gaze. "As you wish."

Robin nocked an arrow and then two more in the backs of the two assassins who rushed after King Richard. Robin released another arrow, for he had to let the king reach his weapons and kill the Saracens who tried to surround the lion. The next wave of arrows dropped like a killing hail, the steel points of arrows slamming into the assassins' necks and hearts.

King Richard finished off two Saracens, but then was attacked by another assassin. He crushed an overhead blow at his enemy, skewing his face and plunging his sword through his skull. Then turned around and swung his sword at the second dark-skinned man. He smiled with a contented smile at the corpses, but all at once he was attacked by the two treacherous Crusaders – Geoffrey and William – who appeared from the back of the tent and ran towards him.

A genuinely surprised Richard stared at the two traitors. One of the traitors – Geoffrey – threw a large handful of sand right into the king's face. Momentarily disoriented and groggy, Richard didn't see the same man aiming an overhead blow at him; Carter of Stretton lunged all in one smooth action, impaling the foe on his blade. The second traitor – William – lunged at the monarch, and Carter made a movement to protect his liege, but he stood rather far away.

"Sire! Behind!" Still fighting on the other side of the tent, Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, threw a long dagger exactly into the neck of the king's attacker. Robert was simultaneously holding back another Saracen assassin.

Richard brushed sand away from his face, blinking and shaking his head at the sight of the corpses of two traitors from the private guard. "Well done, Robert and Carter."

Horrified, Robin felt his heart skip a beat in his chest as he saw the scene of his liege’s timely salvation by Carter and Robert, the second last-instance salvation in the same raid. "The king! Protect the king!" Robin's voice rang in the air, his heart slamming painfully into his chest.

His eyes fixed on the king, an anxious Robin shouted orders to form a circle around the king, addressing his commands to Roger de Tosny and Aubrey de Vere, who appeared in the entrance to King's tent with bloodied swords in their arms. In a moment, the king was surrounded by de Beaumont, de Tosny, de Vere, and Carter, who shielded their liege from the few assassins who still remained in the tent.

Out of arrows, Robin ripped his scimitar from the scabbard, and then he suddenly felt a sword scratching his chainmail along his side. He turned just in time to sidestep and deflect a blow aimed at his neck. He looked at his enemy – a tall and broad-shouldered man – and shuddered as he saw the clear green eyes and pale skin around them; the man was most likely not the Saracen, although he was disguised as an infidel, wearing a turban on his head and armed with Saracen weapons.

Robin grinned, revealing his white teeth. "Who are you? Another traitor? A Black Knight?" he hissed, and swung his scimitar in a huge arc for his opponent's chest.

The same green-eyed man ducked and avoided what could have been a mortal blow, but Robin's scimitar injured his shoulder and his sword arm; he moaned in pain and tried to step back, but failed to sustain another Robin's aggressive attack; his sword dropped and he was disarmed. As Robin pointed his scimitar straight at the man's face to unmask him, he noticed a flash of metal from the right and was barely able to sidestep a blow. Then someone punched Robin in the jaw.

Another assassin – a slender man of average height – lunged at Robin who grimaced in pain as he reached out for his chin with his left hand, the other gripping scimitar tightly. At the same time, Edmund blocked the assault and sliced the man's chest. The assassin howled in pain and fell to his knees. Edmund lunged at him, but in a moment they were attacked by two more enemies, and that distracted their attention from the fallen warrior.

Then the extremely unusual thing happened. The assassin, whom Robin had wounded in his shoulder, and another man, not very tall but muscled, dashed to the fallen masked Saracen injured by Edmund; they lifted him from the ground and hurried to the back of the tent, intending to escape.

In the next moment, Edmund and Robin saw those men trying to escape from the king's tent in panting haste; they automatically went after the fleeing enemies. When they almost reached them, they noticed that Much was in trouble as a tall Saracen was about to stab him from the back.

Robin swung around and rushed to Much; Edmund followed him, but this time stayed a little aside, his eyes darting between the king and Robin.

Attacked by three more Saracens, Much gave a cry, feeling the bite of the metal through his sleeve into the flesh. Then, out of nowhere, came Robin's blocking diagonal blow, almost too late, but stopping the blade from slicing too deeply and then severing the enemy's head in one swing. Simultaneously, Edmund plunged his sword into the heart of the second assassin, and Much was left only with one dark-skinned warrior, whom he quickly disarmed and stabbed into his gut.

"Much, when will you learn?" Robin scolded.

Much smiled gratefully at Robin. "Only when I am dead," he joked.

Robin glanced around and saw that only his comrades were inside the tent. He remarked that some assassins had managed to flee the tent, to his great disappointment. Sighing heavily, he calmly wiped off his sword with a cloth taken from under his tunic and slid it back into the scabbard.

"Edmund and John, to me," Robin barked as he marched to Sir Edward of Scrivelsby, looking at him with cold disdain; powerful hatred surged fiercely through him. "Shackle his wrists. Tie up his legs."

"A moment." Little John flinched at the icy chillness in Robin's voice. Robin rarely spoke in such a metallic, lifeless tone, and if he did, it meant that he was madly furious.

John crouched and retrieved two of Robin's arrows from Edward's legs; screams of pain followed, but he tried to keep cool. Then he tied up the traitor's legs with a coarse rope, while Edmund shackled the man. The traitor was supposed to stay in the tent and wait for his interrogation.

Leaving the king under the protection of fifteen staunchly loyal guards in the tent, Robin went outside the royal tent. He took only Much, Carter, and John. Robin pleaded with the king to stay in the tent, out of the fight, for they were surrounded and didn't know how large the Saracen army was. At first, Richard protested, but under Robin and Robert's pressure he agreed not to participate in the battle.

"Edmund, go to Robin. Stay close to him," Richard said quietly.

"Carter, Much, and John are with Robin. Maybe I should stay with you, milord?" Edmund asked.

"No, go. There are enough loyal guards here," the lion insisted. "Stay as close as possible to Robin, Much, Carter, and John. In this massacre, you will help and save each other." He leaned closer to Edmund and whispered, “Robin must live. He must be unscratched.”

Edmund nodded. “Sire, I will watch Robin in the battle.” On the way to the exit, he noticed how the king said something to the three men from the second guard, commanded by Leicester, and then they went out, apparently to be close to Leicester.

The battle with the Saracen assassins was a sheer butchering, cruel and insane, not a small Saracen raid, but an organized large raid of the small Saracen army on the camp. Obviously, the raid was well-prepared in advance and absolutely unexpected due to the betrayal in the private guard. Each party was mercilessly butchering the enemies, slicing into faces, hands, chests, and backs with their swords.

"Form the double line of protection around the king's tent!" Robin ordered Edmund, who nodded at him; he knew that he had to fight in the battle, but he had to ensure the king's safety.

Robin observed many more Saracens dismounting and launching a ferocious attack on the tightly compressed forces of the Crusaders in the area around the king's tent. He also noticed more Saracens gathering nearby, as if they were going to launch a direct attack on the king's tent. The Crusaders were swiftly surrounded by swarms of Saracens, who appeared as if from nowhere and leapt from their horses to charge in a solid block towards the Christians.

Undoubtedly, there were more than two hundred attackers already in the camp, and approximately the same number of the fighting Crusaders among them. Many other Crusaders only started fighting, but many Saracens were also arriving at the camp. Soon the king's men were squeezed even more tightly in the region of the royal tent, something Robin wouldn’t have considered possible if he didn't know that there were several traitors in the private guard who had sold them to the Saracens.

"Charge them! For King Richard! For England!" Robin shouted in Norman-French at the top of his voice. He repeated the same in English, then.

Blood and death mingled in the fire-flashing crimson darkness and permeated the air, burning Robin’s nostrils and his heart. They were betrayed by their own men, the greedy and vile Englishmen, who worked for the Black Knights and Prince John for many years and spied on the king and Robin himself. All at once, something rolled in Robin's heart, his blood boiled, and the urge to shed blood wantonly and cruelly overcame him. Those Saracen assassins hired by the sheriff's Muslim allies didn't deserve to live. He had to kill them and he didn't feel even a shadow of remorse at the thought of taking their lives. Deep darkness, sheer blankness, and mystic nonchalance swallowed him up.

"Bless my soul! They will pay for treason and today's attack!" Robin exclaimed. "I want them dead."

A furious Robin drew his scimitar and rushed into the battle like a madman, roaring the battle cry "Deus vult!"; it was repeated by the countless voices of the king's men. He faded away like a shadow, swiftly as a flash of light and noiselessly as a panther. Much, John and Carter had to strain their eyesight before they caught a glimpse of Robin's scimitar flashing silver in the darkness.

From the corner of his eye, Robin noticed the Earl of Leicester leading his men into the battle as they broke through the human mass of the fighting men in an irresistible rolling wave to the right from the king's tent. Swinging his sword at the dark-skinned enemies, Leicester barked commands in Norman-French, his voice urgent and clear, to surround the area of the Crusaders’ camp and form the third thick protective line around the king's tent, so that no assassin could find a loophole and, using chaos of the battle, try to assassinate Richard and his protectors who waited inside.

Moving swiftly and swinging his sword at the assassins, Robin could visualize their dark faces as his enemies stalked forward and lunged at him, brandishing their grisly scimitars at him. He didn't care whom he would kill and that he himself could die in the massacre, for he would die for King Richard, for England, and for his friends and comrades – an honorable death for a knight. Concentrating intently on wasting no time on thinking, even to glance around and look out, Robin charged out and forward into the teeth of the enemies, who, surprised by his fierce assaults, ducked and recoiled from him, obviously unprepared for anything of the kind. His blows were deadly and the Saracens fell one by one as his sword slashed and sliced through them.

Much, Carter, Edmund, and Little John slowly made their way to the heart of the battle, surrounding Robin from all sides. By force of habit, Much stood back-to-back with Robin, protecting his best friend and killing anyone who dared attack him; his own hand was injured and he was in slight pain, but he neglected it and fought like a possessed man, killing all dark-skinned opponents his sword found. Carter was fighting at Robin's right side, swinging his twin curved swords at several assassins simultaneously and expertly slicing them deeply into their bodies. Edmund stood at Robin's left, aggressively attacking the Saracen and defending himself and his friends.

At the height of the battle, Little John fought with two assassins at the same time, feeling as if he were in living hell. He saw Saracen raids in Acre, but he never participated in the extremely brutal slaughter and massacres. The bloodshed was both exhilarating and appalling to behold – the dreadful human tragedy of the holy war.

John often caught glimpses of Robin, Carter, Much, and Edmund in the fierce fight. What he saw made him both impressed and scared: they killed and killed, professionally, mercilessly, and indifferently to the cries of dying and injured men around them. The small smiles of Edmund, Much, and Carter in the corners of their lips betrayed that they were enjoying bloodshed, and it made John's blood run cold. Flatness and sharp focus in their blank gazes shocked him to the core, for it was the first time when he saw only cruel and trained soldiers in them, without a soul and a heart.

But it was not Carter, Much, or Edmund who intrigued John most of all – it was Robin. He knew that Robin could kill easily, almost automatically, cutting life out of an enemy and immediately turning to another enemy; he had seen that in England twice. John knew that Robin was like Ares, the Greek god of war, with a sword, his fighting style and blows being unspeakably beautiful, extremely complicated, immensely adroit, and very unique, but he had never imagined that Robin's swordplay may have been so bloody and so harsh; Robin used more sophisticated combinations of blows and turns in the today's massacre, confusing and shocking his opponents.

At the very instance when his scimitar penetrated his enemy's flesh and another life was fading away, Robin's gaze was absolutely blank and seemed to be somewhat uncanny , and a tiny smile – painful or satisfied, but more likely ambivalent – played in the corners of his mouth. But even his gaze and smile were not the most shocking and unusual things in Little John's perception.

During the fierce battle, the expression of a bloodthirsty Robin was _the clearheaded, unearthly detachment from the world_ when Robin killed, killed, and killed like a demon-possessed man. He changed from a peacemaker into a professional soldier and a brutal killer, mechanically displaying his darkly beautiful fighting style and killing. In such moments, Robin had no feelings, no heart, no soul, and even no understanding of reality, as if he were not conscious of his own actions. His eyes were sharp, blank, and yet extraordinarily bright. There were no inner fire and no teasing glint in Robin’s orbs, which he usually had in normal time. Robin was darkness, and darkness was him – they were interchangeable.

All at once, John realized why their leader had imposed the non-killing policy after his return to England: Robin had to control himself and feared to overstep the line when nothing would stop him from doing things he would regret later. For the first time, John realized, with sickening and yet pleasant clarity, that Robin was fiercely struggling with the abysmal undercurrent darkness which had always been present in his heart but which he was trying to bury deeply inside himself and usually controlled very well. John felt his heart swelling with enormous respect and admiration for Robin, who had put so much effort and will to suppress his natural instincts of a killer.

§§§

Instead of suffering from boredom in Acre, Lady Melisende Plantagenet, Countess de Bordeaux, and Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, Countess de Champagne, wanted to dine in the king’s company on that evening. They left Acre and rode towards the king’s camp with an escort of only ten guards. They spotted the flares lighting the battlefield above the camp. They exchanged bewildered glances, abashed that the Crusaders’ camp was attacked. They remained quiet for some time, hearing the battle cries, the clash of arms, and the screams of the wounded.

"There is a fierce battle there," Isabella supposed.

"Definitely, Isabella."

"I thought they had ceasefire as Saladin confirmed it a week ago." Isabella was confused. "What could this mean?"

Melisende nodded. "I bet it is a new regicide attempt on Richard's life. I have no other explanation."

"We have to go back to Acre. Henry and André will come."

"Yes, let's go back to Acre," Melisende stated resolutely.

Behind them, they heard screams of pain as the Saracen's first arrows hit their guards. A scattering of arrows followed, and soon almost all of their guards lay dead, their bodies riddled with arrows like pincushions. In the darkness, they saw several approaching assassins, who headed to the camp but discovered them in the desert.

"Isabella, ride away and duck!" Melisende declared as she ducked under an arrow.

Isabella looked horrified. "You are kidding me? The arrows will kill us!"

"We cannot go back to Acre – we have no time. The Crusaders’ camp is very close. We are going to sneak there and hide in one of the tents," Melisende explained her plan.

"There is a massacre there! We will be killed!"

"It is our only chance," Melisende parried as an arrow whizzed near her ear. "Ride! Now!"

The king's cousin set her horse into a gallop and left without another word, her horse kicking up plumes of the sand. Cursing in Norman-French, Isabella followed her. They heard the arrows whizzing past them, and there were cries of pain and war cries of the Saracens somewhere nearby.

As they rode into the Crusaders’ camp, the devastating picture opened before their eyes. The bodies of the dead warriors were chaotically scattered around the camp. Many were wounded and moaned in pain, echoing around like the moaning of lost souls; some were crawling and drowning in their own blood flowing from their wounds; others lay crying and cursing in fear and pain. The Saracens and the Crusaders were chopping men down and staining the sand crimson.

The two ladies shuddered in horror. Those pitiful cries were heartbreaking and clear despite the clash of metal hissing in the cold air, and such a high pitched drone sent shivers down their spines. The sand was yellow and crimson and entirely crimson in many places. As the battle was raging most fiercely near the king's tent, no man could see much farther than the end of his sword. Then again arrows were whizzing all around them, and one sank into the flank of Melisende's horse, which slowed and bolted, throwing her down; Isabella's horse also bolted and she fell to the sand.

"Oh, my Lord! And what now?" Isabella sounded terrified. "Should I pray for a place in paradise?"

"We have swords. Be ready to fight for your life!" Melisende gritted her teeth, struggling with fear that threatened to overpower her. "We must find Richard. Huntingdon and Leicester are also somewhere here, and they will help us."

Isabella was as pale as death itself. "Better find where to hide."

"Come along! This is just a new adventure," the king's cousin said cheerfully.

Two Saracens approached, looking at the two richly dressed women with interest. The young slim assassin laughed, his eyes taking in Melisende's slender body wrapped in a tightly corseted blue velvet gown that emphasized her lovely curves. The larger man chuckled at the sight of Isabella's frightened face, his eyes taking in her trendy dark green gown.

"What do we have here?" the slim Saracen said in highly accented French. "What a real treasure in the cold desert."

"Help us! Help us!" Isabella of Jerusalem cried out hysterically.

Melisende stood ahead of Isabella, blocking the path to her. "Stay back. Don't touch her," she warned in Norman-French. "Or I swear that you will regret it."

"Hey, you are a bold lady," the same assassin insisted, his Norman-French highly accented and barely understandable. "You will fetch a pretty price on the market once you satisfy us. Let's take them with us." He stepped towards the king's cousin.

"You cannot touch her! She is Melek-Ric's cousin, and I am the wife of Melek-Ric's nephew!" Isabella cried out. "Don't you dare touch us!"

"What a treasure! Two treasures!" The larger assassin drew his sword and joined his comrade. "Then the two of you will be our prisoners. You must be worth a pretty penny indeed for ransom."

"Stay back!" a fearless Melisende hissed like a serpent, her eyes coruscating with a dark violet fire of rage.

Smiling menacingly, the Saracen advanced forward. Melisende unsheathed her French sword and lashed out at the man, swinging it in an arc and catching him in the throat, killing him instantly. She stood in a defensive position, calmly looking at the stupefied face of the second Saracen.

Isabella's eyes went wide. "You killed him…"'

A leering Melisende tossed her red-gold curls. "He deserved death." She smiled nervously. "You, another assassin, if you want to see how I will cut you down, I am at your service."

"You are a magnificent cat!" The larger assassin's lips curled in his predatory smile.

Melisende's eyes narrowed to slits as they focused on the face of her enemy. "I am Melek-Ric's cousin," she said haughtily. "Your friend underestimated me. Don't make the same mistake."

"You are as bloodthirsty as the barbarian king!" The assassin stepped forward, lunging at the lady who dared challenge him.

Isabella sank to her knees, shaking with fear. "On my Lord…"

The Saracen raised his sword and stabbed at Melisende. At the last second, she sidestepped his blow and launched an attack, thrusting for the huge man's unprotected middle. They circled each other and traded blows. The astonished assassin slashed at her and crushed an overhead blow, but she ducked and with a cry of triumph slashed at his unguarded right side. Enraged enemy blocked and advanced forward, but she blocked again, scratching his neck. The man was about to lunge at her when she saw someone's silver scimitar flying down in a deadly arc, slicing the upper part of the assassin's neck.

Robin of Locksley stood near the fallen corpse of the Saracen, his eyes flickering between Isabella on the sand and Melisende. Robert de Beaumont was nearby; he gave a heavy sigh as he stared at Melisende, and then he took a step aside and helped Isabella get to her feet.

"What are you doing here?" Robin gave Melisende the same blank and bright gaze which scared John.

"We were going to Richard and were attacked in the desert," Melisende replied, instinctively recoiling from him; she found his appearance unusual because of his gaze.

Robin sighed. "Yeah, the timing for your visit is extremely suitable. You have a fine taste."

"You are desperate, Lady Melisende," Robert said, struggling with a joyful smile to see her again.

Melisende smirked. "I had insomnia and missed Richard, my lords."

Robert stood near them. "Oh, my dear Lady Melisende, your swordplay has always been amazing, but as far as I am concerned, it may not be enough to survive in this battle."

Melisende turned to look at Robert. "Oh, my dear Earl of Leicester, and your swordplay is enough?"

Robert smiled at her. "Overwhelmingly enough to win."

"Impressive swordplay, Lady Melisende," Robin noted. "Is that King Richard's training?"

Melisende chuckled. "Certainly."

Robin arched an eyebrow. "The lion taught a lionet to fight, right?"

"Ah, I do trust that a bird won’t quarrel with a lionet," Melisende shot.

"A lionet like you is very small, but some birds are a little bigger," Robin fired back.

Melisende laughed. "Huntingdon, you think you are a big bird?" She smiled knavishly, then eyed him. "You are so slender, my lord! Maybe you are a little bird?"

Robert winked at Robin. "Oh, Robin, you won't have time to be bored. You will have the meat of birds and lions every breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

Melisende frowned slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, maybe we will hide, finally?" Isabella nearly moaned.

At that very instance, two Saracens stumbled into them from the darkness. Robin and Robert pushed the ladies aside and raised their swords, ducking under the blows and shifting their attack, cutting them back down at waist and legs. Robin circled his opponent and then lunged forward, crisscrossing the blades and driving his sword at the Saracen's gut. Robert lunged at the second mercenary's neck and slashed his throat.

"You must leave the battlefield," Robert said with alarm in his voice.

"Please follow us," Robin said, eyeing Melisende curiously. He was surprised with her calmness among carnage and death. "The king's tent."

"Richard is alright?" Melisende needed to know.

"He is in his tent, guarded and protected," Robin informed as he led them towards the thick formation of the king's men that surrounded the royal tent.

"Thanks to God!" Melisende felt relief washing over her.

Robert gently pushed Melisende and Isabella forward. "Go to the king's tent and stay there. I hope the king won't have a heart attack when he sees you."

"Don't go out until we come back,” Robin ordered.

Robin turned around; he charged into the battle with loud war cries and mingled with the horde of soldiers. Carter and Much followed him in the core of the massacre.

Robin set himself into a sophisticated and beautiful swirl, this time with an extravagant and swift somersault after completing one spin and immediately starting another spin. Watching Robin's manipulations, the Saracens gaped at him in astonishment, but then they were cut down by Robin who repeated the same trick but moving along another trajectory. The deaths of the Saracens were so immediate and violent that deep horror curdled on their dark faces even after their deaths.

More mercenaries dismounted near the royal tent, and then they split up into knots of twos and threes; two groups of them launched an assault on Little John. John fought violently and fiercely, but the Saracens were more adroit and, within a dozen heartbeats, he found himself in a cutthroat trap, with scimitars directed at him from all sides. He started praying to God when Robin loomed among the dark-skinned enemies and began slaughtering them.

Robin blocked the blow that was aimed at John's back, and then he swirled around at a devilish speed, setting himself to make a tricky circular blow with a spin and skewing one assassin across his stomach, another one across his chest, and the third one in his right side, all the above just within one spin. Robin made another magic swirl, his scimitar slicing through the crowd of enemies and saving John's life.

John held back two enemies, lunging at them. "Thank you, Robin," he cried over his shoulder.

"If you are willing to die, at least die for a good cause and heroically," Robin said, his blade slicing into his rival's scalp. Then he crossed the blades with someone else, blocking and parrying.

"There is nothing heroic in this massacre." John buried his sword into someone else; he already didn't know where he had injured his opponent.

Robin snarled, "Nothing, except for saving the king's life and the lives of your friends." He crisscrossed his scimitar with a young Saracen, almost a boy, and delivered him a scarlet grin. He gave Little John a sidelong glance. "John, just don't die… not here..."

It touched a string in John's heart. "I will try."

"Be attentive. Move faster. Kill them.” That was the only way of survival in massacres and savage battles known to Robin.

"It sounds sad!" John exclaimed.

Robin turned his gaze at John, frowning at him. John shuddered at the sight of Robin's eyes – unusually blank and strikingly bright, as if they were glassy and shimmering in the bright sunlight; flatness and fog veiled Robin's familiar mocking or blazing gaze.

Robin recommended, "Concentrate and fight – or you will die.”

Robin advanced forward, swinging at the head of the Saracen; then he sidestepped a blow before swinging down hard and giving him a cruel blow in the lower part of his stomach. He saw a flash out of the corner of his eye and narrowly dodged from a blow that could have decapitated him. He tried to stab at his opponent, but someone grabbed his arm from behind and wrenched away his sword.

Robin saw death towering over him: a tall, huge Saracen, like a mountain, stronger than Little John and Legrand, with a very long scimitar raised high, was sneering at him. Robin tried to pull away from a blow but the assassin grabbed his legs and roughly flipped him head over heels. Laughing and muttering something in Arabic, he raised his sword above Robin who tried to creep away on the sand to avoid a fatal blow. Another assassin stood near them and also lunged at Robin.

A disarmed and disoriented Robin was about to be killed by two Saracens. He blocked one blow with his arms, but the huge man laughed at him and nodded at the second assassin, who leaned forward and grabbed Robin's shoulders, holding him tightly and depriving him of a chance to flee.

"It is a rare honor to kill Captain Locksley," the huge assassin hissed in Arabic.

"Die Locksley! The hour of your death has come, dirty Christian," the second assassin said happily in Arabic; he tightened his hold on Robin's shoulders.

"You are like a mountain, man. You can kill everyone by a simple caress of your… hand. I wonder how you treat pretty women; they must be terrified at the mere sight of you," Robin parried in Arabic; then he laughed into their faces.

The big assassin roared in anger and prepared to make a fatal downward blow. In a wink, Carter was next to Robin, swinging his twin swords in a wild effort to keep the assassin away from his captain and beheading him with one blow. With a war cry of fury, Much advanced forward and buried his sword in the back of the same man. Edmund plunged his sword in the hips of the assassin who had been holding Robin.

"Are you hurt, Robin?" Much and Carter inquired together.

"Robin, are you alright?" Edmund asked with concern.

"No. They only made me fly… a little." Robin momentarily scrambled to his feet.

"At least, you are alive." Edmund shook his head.

"One of them was too large and too strong," Much voiced his observations.

"Maybe we should gain some weight?" Robin teased, blinking his eyes.

Laughing, Carter parried a blow. "If you become fatter, girls won't be as besotted with you as they are now."

Much shook his head. "Slenderness makes you more charming, lads."

"Oh, I agree, my friend," Robin teased back, blocking and parrying.

They heard the familiar voices of Henry de Champagne and André de Chauvigny, the king Richard's other prominent generals. They had already heard about the massacre in the king's camp and arrived to help their fellow Crusaders. De Chauvigny and de Champagne's men raised their weapons, shouted their booming battle cries, and then came riding at full gallop towards the central part of the camp and the royal tent with their bows and swords in their arms.

"Carter, Robin was almost killed," Edmund snapped angrily as he blocked someone's blow.

"The crowd separated us… just for a couple of minutes," Carter lamented; and it was the truth.

"If Robin is grievously wounded or killed, the king…" Edmund said heatedly but broke off. "Although the case was exceptional as they held him, it was too much. It should never happen again." He stabbed at his enemies. "When Gisborne wounded Robin, the king was very displeased."

Carter finished off an assassin, lunging and parrying new blows. "Displeased? No, it will be much, much worse. The king will go mad with anger and grief."

The fateful Saracen attack organized by Guy of Gisborne the raid had been undetected in advance and half of the night guard was absent from their posts. As a result, Robin and only a few more Crusaders had been alone against the band of the assassins headed by Gisborne. Much had had to run around the camp and warn the Crusaders about the attack, and that was an extraordinary case; it hadn’t been his duty, but he had done that because everyone else slept or disappeared. While Robin had been shooting arrows at Guy's accomplices, Much hadn’t been beside Robin then, and as a result, Robin hadn’t noticed Gisborne and had been stabbed from the back.

Only now they understood that someone of the traitors in the private guard had probably removed half of the night guard. They thought that the culprit of the mess could have been even Sir Edward of Scrivelsby, who was the king's entrusted old guard before today's massacre. Yet, they didn't know that, on the night of the Saracen raid led by Gisborne, Sir James of Lambton had removed the guards and had helped Guy's assassins appear in the camp undetected. James of Lambton had headed the king's private guard in Robin's absence and had refused to return to England with commendation after Robin's return in Acre in order to continue spying on Richard for the Black Knights.

After Gisborne had run away, Robin had been discovered on the sand in a huge pool of blood, writhing in pain and agony. King Richard was had been furious, that Edmund of Cranfield had been sure that his liege would order his execution on the spot. Perhaps miraculously or maybe because of being in the king’s favor, Edmund hadn’t been accused of the mess in the camp: he was Robin's second-in-command, and on that night he could have been easily blamed for the facts that the attack had been undetected and that his captain had had to fight with the assassins in such unusual conditions. Edmund still blessed fate that he had escaped the king’s wrath then; he was Richard's favorite, entrusted man, and even friend, but he wasn't in such a great favor as Robin always was, and he could have been punished severely for Robin's demise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised that Robin would find consolation in his private life. Now you see that Robin is going to marry Lady Melisende Plantagenet, the king's cousin and the fictional character in this story/novel. He accepted the king’s offer to marry the lady only out of loyalty to King Richard and in a desperate attempt to forget Marian. Besides, he is greatly attracted to Melisende.
> 
> I hope you liked the portrayal of Melisende in this story. But will Robin's marriage be only political? We are going to have love triangle Marian/Robin/Melisende. This political marriage suits Robin, the king's man who is utterly loyal to England and his king. Moreover, Robin will be in the same situation as Marian: he will be torn between two woman, just as Marian is torn between Guy and Robin on the show and in this story.
> 
> When I hear that Robin is unable to love as deeply and passionately as Guy can, I strongly disagree. Robin is capable of loving others and he obviously loved Marian with all his heart. I won't compare Guy's love for Marian and Robin's love for her here. Just don’t forget that Robin guarded his true emotions, which many readers/viewers tend to ignore or fail to realize for whatever reason.
> 
> Chapter 13 is devoted to the fierce battle between the Crusaders and the Saracens; of course, the Black Knights play an important role in the event. Robin is portrayed as a Crusader there: he kills and slaughters his enemies like a professional soldier. There was a lot of violence in this chapter, but battles on the Crusade are supposed to be bloody. As King Richard recalls Robin back in the Holy Land, we needed to have at least one bloody battle, like those Robin and Much fought on the Crusade.
> 
> In this chapter, we saw a glimpse of the dark Robin. I have always thought that on the show Robin was fighting with the undercurrent darkness that was always present in his heart but that he buried deeply in his heart and usually controlled himself very well. Robin had natural instincts of a killer, for he was deadly with a sword and a bow, he fought in the Holy Land and he killed countless infidels, but he still managed to remain human and control that darkness was after his return to Nottingham. I respect Robin for his tremendous self-control, which Guy of Gisborne never had, unfortunately.
> 
> I know that there are readers who like the scenes of archery and sword fight. I have to say that I like writing them very much. Eight years ago, I took a class in fencing, and I loved it so much that I started practicing regularly. I am not a great master of fence, but I am a formidable fighter. I studied swordplay in details, including types of blows (diagonal, circle, angle, overhead, crisscross, spin and swirl, and so on) and various styles of fighting, so that I could write swordplay understanding what I am writing about. Maybe it is reflected in fighting scenes I create.
> 
> Now about my observation I want to share with you. On the show, I had a clear impression that Robin was a better swordsman and, of course, archer than Guy was, probably largely due to Robin's experience of brutal fighting in the Holy Land while Guy never went to the war. I was astonished with the results of my observation: Robin's swordplay in all episodes was not only more beautiful, but also much more sophisticated, so that you have an impression that he was a much better swordsman. That’s what we see on the show, but it is also realistic as Robin fought in the Holy Land. Maybe I am mistaken, but from I know about swordplay and from what I see, I made this conclusion.
> 
> I don't portray Robin as the best swordsman in the king's army, but I show that he is deadly with a sword and, of course, with a bow. He is much better than an average knight was with a sword; he is outstanding, but he is not the best. We see even in this chapter that Robin had a trouble when one very large Saracen made him "fly head over heels" and almost killed him. Robin's fighting style is described as unspeakably beautiful, extremely complicated, immensely adroit, and very unique, as it was shown on the show. My Robin uses many sophisticated tricking blows and combinations of blows to fight with his enemies and win his battles, which is a general tactic for slender swordsmen who have to compensate for his relatively small size and be able to fight with physically stronger opponents.


	13. In the midst of Traitors

**Chapter 13**

**In the midst of Traitors**

With every heartbeat, the Crusaders were closer to the victory. Determined to finish the battle not only victorious, but to make it nothing less than a vicious orgy of bloodshed, butchering, and terror, King Richard's troops were slaughtering their enemies as madness and bloodlust overcame the Crusaders.

The Saracen assassins, who were unmistakably confident mere minutes earlier and butchered the Crusaders, were now reeling and eddying in confusion, but the king's men continued slashing and hacking at the running shapes in the darkness. Soon the king's men shattered the core of the Saracen army; the assassins ran away in all directions as they tried to escape and save their lives. Unable to stop the bloodthirsty Crusaders, someone among the assassins ordered to retreat in utter panic and fear. But the king's men were not in a mood to let their enemies escape and chased after them.

"For King Richard! After them!" Robin shouted.

"Do your battle! After them!" the Earl of Leicester inspired.

"Don't permit them to flee! Kill everyone! Kill them!" André de Chauvigny shrilled.

"For King Richard! Find and kill the infidels!" Henry de Champagne cried out.

At the sight of the panicking enemies, Robin gave Much an order to go and fetch his bow and two full quivers of arrows from his tent. Confused, Much obeyed at once and came back out of breath just as Robin mounted his horse and motioned Much to climb into the saddle behind him.

"Ride with me, Much, and cover me with your shield. We will pursue these assassins," Robin ordered as he grabbed his bow and several arrows.

Much nodded in understanding. "Are they the Black Knights?" he asked.

Robin nodded. "I think so."

"These Black Knights are so revolting," Much grumbled.

Robin spurred his horse and rode away at a frightening speed. Much held his shield ready.

"For King Richard! For England!" Much proclaimed.

As they rode away, the Earl of Leicester with his squire followed Robin, screaming to pursue the assassins in the name of the king. At the sight of their leaders so courageously charging into the battle, the cries of encouragement to chase after the enemies started drowning out the shouts of victory as the Crusaders mounted their horses and set them at full gallop to hunt down their enemies.

A surprised Little John asked, "What are they doing? Are they mad?"

"Just Huntingdon and Leicester," one of the guards said with a laugh as he mounted.

John stared astonished at James. "What is wrong with them?"

"It is normal, especially for Sir Robin," another guard said in admiration.

Edmund gripped John's sleeve, pulling him towards the horse. "It is fine, John. Let's go."

"What is it? This I don't like," John asked again.

"This is what Robin calls _an insane half-a-plan_ that is always brilliant," Edmund explained.

"But the king is here," John said anxiously.

"Robin commanded enough men to surround the king's tent and area," Edmund said as he jumped to the horse. "Our liege is safe in the camp, and now Robin wants to pursue our enemies."

"Robin's crazy half plans will eventually kill all of us. We don't know where we are riding; there can be many assassins hiding in the desert," John persisted; he mounted the horse.

Edmund shrewdly assessed, "Most likely, the outcome will be brilliant: Robin rarely fails, and the effectiveness of his half-plans is always dazzling.” He hopped into the saddle, looking at John. “We must protect Robin. The king will have our heads if Robin or Robert – especially Robin – is wounded or killed."

Little John said nothing. He was emotionally moved by the massacre; he didn't feel any thrill at the thought of riding into the cold desert, chasing after shades of fleeing enemies. He had never in his entire life been so incredibly exhausted, both physically and mentally. He felt tired and almost feverish with happiness that the battle in the camp was over, and he needed to sleep.

The Crusaders chased after the fleeing Saracens for at least an hour, riding further and further away from the king's camp and Acre in the hostile desert. Robin with Much, sitting behind him on the same white stallion, galloped ahead of the king's forces, with the Earl of Leicester maintaining exactly the same speed and riding beside them. And then Robin ordered to split up, heading back to the camp. All of a sudden, they heard horn signals from the fleeing Saracens who immediately changed their tactic and started advancing on the supposedly retreating Crusaders.

“Another battle,” Little John grumbled. Convinced that Robin's half a plan failed, he almost cursed aloud as he began to dismount. He glanced around but saw no Robin and Much, who vanished in the darkness of the Arabian night. John thought that rushing out against an enemy was not very wise; he believed that they would go after mere shadows and would return to the camp with nothing.

The Saracens gave loud war screams and went on the offensive again. John drew his sword to defend himself, but then he heard Robin's steady baritone, taking a higher octave with every second as the order to surround the area in a rectangular shape, from all the sides, resonated.

"Surround the area!" Leicester's voice resonated.

"Fire!" Robin roared as he dropped his reins and drew his bow. "Fire!"

Much raised his shield that covered most of Robin's body as the young captain released a hail of arrows, not letting the Saracens attack the other Crusaders. The archers were firing massive torrents of arrows that fell on their target area like sheets of windblown rain. Some Saracens even didn't have time to jump on their horses as arrows slammed into their chests, necks, and flanks. The fleeing Saracens were trapped.

"It is a trap, is it?" Little John asked; as Robin's second-in-command, Edmund knew everything.

"Yes," Edmund murmured delightedly. "Robin's excellent half a plan – to use your enemy's tactic against the same enemy."

"Loose arrows!" Robin commanded again.

"Shoot at the horses!" the Earl of Leicester bawled out, pulling back a string and releasing an arrow.

They rained arrows upon the Saracens, like hailstones, constantly and from all sides. There was no battle as the Saracens fell dead, tried to flee, or had their shields up, or tried to steady their horses with their knees, pushing them back into some semblance of chaotic formation. The panicking assassins were fleeing in the open desert, only to be struck by more arrows that slashed across the field. Horses bolted and continued riding without their masters straight into the desert, vanishing in the darkness.

Suddenly, Robin's horse galloped down the hill, in the direction where the masses of Saracens stood. Halfway across the distance, Robin stopped his horse and jumped down from the saddle; Much mirrored his actions. From there, Robin started shooting arrows at their enemies; Much covered him with a shield. Then they climbed on Robin's horse and rode in parallel to the fleeting mercenaries, shooting into the mass of men. Out of the corner of his eye, they saw Leicester and more Crusaders, including Carter with his squire, following their example.

The sandy dunes in the place where the Saracens were trapped reminded hellish scene of mangled bodies jerking in a deathly agony on the blood-soaked sand, the shafts of arrows protruding from their chests, legs, skulls, necks, and all the parts of their bodies. It seemed that almost nobody or very few assassins managed to flee; Robin and Robert didn't order to continue the pursuit.

Loud sounds of celebration began to burgeon around as the Crusaders congratulated themselves and glorified their commanders – Robin and Robert. But not everyone was happy. Robin couldn't ignore what was happening around him, and he turned to stare with lifeless eyes at the spectacle of cheerful Crusaders, who were reeling like drunken men in the euphoria of having killed so many infidels tonight.

Robert de Beaumont placed a hand on Robin's shoulder. "I think some of them are still alive."

Robin saw some movement in a pile of bodies. "Yes, some are."

"What will we do? Take them prisoners?" Robert questioned.

Robin was confused as blankness was fading away. "I don't know."

"If we bring them to the camp, the king will execute them in the desert like… the prisoners from the capitulated garrison of Acre," they heard Carter's voice from the back.

Much and Little John chose to keep silent. Edmund prudently stayed away.

"We should take care of the wounded men. We have to do that because… otherwise… their fate is known." Robin looked over his shoulder towards his men who were waiting for his instructions, no longer celebrating the victory as they had already noticed their captain's somber mood.

Much was baffled. "To the camp? But you said that the king would execute them?"

"He will, even if they are injured and barely alive." Carter gave a nod.

"Let's take them to the nearby village. There are not very many survivors," Robert offered. "They are no more than simple mercenaries."

"They have no idea who hired them," Robin finished for him.

"I am going to take care of that," Robert offered.

While the king's guards searched for survivors, they watched the carnage. The sandy dunes were crimson with blood, a vindication of the savagery of the battle. It was nothing new, but it was still devastating, especially for Robin, the author of the trap.

Robin glanced up to the dark heavens and muttered a quick prayer, begging God for forgiveness for what he did today. The thought that he had probably damned himself crossed his mind, and the only question he had was whether God would pay any attention to his remorse at all. “Even in the darkness, the blood shines, making the sand seem unnaturally black,” he observed. "This I don't like," John said shortly.

"Nobody likes this. How much blood do we have to spill in these lands?" Carter sounded rhetorical.

Robin felt bile in his throat, and he swallowed frantically. "I am a warrior, and I have fought many battles in my life. I don't fear bloodshed, but I don't get much pleasure from it."

Much wrapped his arm around Robin's back. "Robin, it was them or the king or us."

"The priests say those who die fighting the Saracens will go straight to Heaven. Yet, I have a feeling that I am in hell. Then where shall I go when I die?" Robin mused. He felt nothing, except for sickening dizziness and disgust, as he ran his eyes across the battlefield.

"We all are in hell," Much said, gesturing to the Crusaders.

"We must make peace," Carter said, also not pleased with the events of the day.

"Peace? Is it really possible in these lands?" Robin's voice was calm and even.

"At times, I think there can be no peace," Carter said rhetorically, his expression changing into sadness. "Death laughs at peace on the wrong side of its face."

As the Crusaders rode away, several dark figures on horseback appeared from the sandy hill. They sat straight-backed in the saddles, their swords still unsheathed and bloodied. They were the Black Knights who managed to flee from the Crusaders’ camp. They watched the battlefield intently and attentively, their heads covered with turbans and their faces masked to conceal their identities and for some of them the color of their skin.

"We were waist-deep in the crimson waters today," the Earl of Buckingham broke a silence.

The Earl of Durham lamented, "The king is alive, even unscratched. We lost our spies in the private guard, except for James, who hasn't been uncovered yet. We spent much money on the assassins. We crossed half of the world to come to this hell hole, but we failed and we have nothing."

"We failed, but at least we managed to flee and stay alive," Nasir noticed. He was the chief man among Sheriff Vaisey's Turkish allies.

"But Rotherham is seriously wounded. Who did this to him?" Durham asked.

The Baron of Rotherham was the wounded assassin who had been carried from the king's tent by the Earl of Buckingham, who remained unscratched, and the Earl of Spenser, whom Robin had wounded in his shoulder and arm. Rotherham was unconscious and bleeding heavily; his body was placed atop of the horse ahead of Buckingham, who wrapped his arm around the baron's waist.

"Edmund of Cranfield, the Earl of Middlesex, if I am not mistaken," Buckingham replied.

Durham eyed the Earl of Spenser. "Spenser, are you also wounded?"

Spenser nodded. "I was in the king's tent, and Robin Hood sliced my right shoulder. Buckingham helped me avoid Hood's lethal blow, and then we grabbed Rotherham and ran away." He cursed. "Damn! My wound is bleeding! It is a deep cut!"

"Looks more like a wound," Durham commented.

"It hurts like hell! Goddamn Locksley!" Spenser spewed curses.

"In the king's tent, I was surrounded by the Earl of Leicester and Vaisey's friend Carter. They would have killed me if two Crusaders, our spies, hadn’t attacked the king at the same moment; they rushed to the king, and then I escaped," Buckingham complained.

"At least you were not killed in the king's tent," Durham remarked.

"Let's get to the port. We will sail in an hour, before the king orders to set up a blockade in the harbor or to search every ship," Spenser said. "And Rotherham urgently needs a doctor."

They spurred their horses and rode away. An eddy of wind sprang up and whirled the dust aside as the horses galloped into the inky darkness.

Nasir cursed. "Damn King Richard! Damn Captain Locksley and Captain Beaumont!"

"Locksley and Beaumont are brilliant, I have to say," Spenser admitted, grimacing as pain slashed through his shoulder. "I doubted that Robin Hood may be bloodthirsty, but now I am impressed. And, damn him, but he is an outstanding swordsman."

"I care about Prince John's displeasure," Buckingham pointed out. "I don't want to lose his favor."

The Earl of Durham rode beside Buckingham. "Certainly, Prince John will be displeased. He wanted his brother to be known as _the massacred Weaklingheart instead of the glorious Lionheart_."

Buckingham laughed. "Lord Vaisey will be happy. He and Lord Sheridan were right that it was a bad plan."

The Earl of Spenser made a wide gesture. "It is not our fault! Well, Prince John wanted to attempt regicide without Robert de Sablé by imitating the massacre of the Crusaders by the heathens. We obeyed and came here. We couldn't predict that the Crusaders would kill all the mercenaries whom the prince hired." He gave a small laugh. "The trouble is that the prince paid too much for the deal."

The Earl of Buckingham croaked with laughter. "Vaisey will have to overtax Nottingham soon to satisfy Prince John and give him more money to finance a new phase of the Operation Shah Mat."

Durham laughed. "The prince will overtax the north of England."

"It is so bad that Melek-Ric is alive. He must pay for all his heinous crimes he committed in our lands," Karim, Nasir's right-hand man, intervened, his voice edged with mortal hatred.

"We may try again, in a few days," the Earl of Durham proposed.

"No," Nasir contradicted. "They are on very high alert. We will fail. We barely managed to organize this massacre, only due to the treachery of the king's men."

"Then we are waiting for de Sablé to hire the Hashashin, and if he fails, then it will be Vaisey's trouble how to kill the king. We have done our part," Buckingham summed up.

Still fearing to be pursued, they spurred on their horses again. They failed and had to leave Acre.

§§§

A full moon hung heavy in the night sky over the sandy dunes. It was several hours until dawn. Robin and his friends passed through the entrance to the camp and rode into the central part where the battle had taken place. Torches flickered across the camp, driving back the advancing darkness. They rode towards the king's tent where they were met by Sir James of Lambton.

"Congratulations, Lord Huntingdon," James of Lambton said with a little smile. His tunic was stained with blood and an ugly gash ran across his forehead. "I have heard about our success in the desert."

Robin slipped from the saddle on the sand, and the others dismounted as well.

Robin stared at James. "What of your report, Sir James?" He never liked the man.

"The battle is over, Sir Robin. We took the surviving Saracens prisoners," James reported. He was relieved that he hadn't approved of the mad idea to make another raid on the king's camp, offering to wait and see whether the plot with hiring the Hashashin would work. Now he was the only Black Knight who hadn't been uncovered yet.

"James, where are Lady Isabella and Lady Melisende?" Robert de Beaumont asked.

"The ladies are gone. King Richard has already sent them back to Acre," James reported.

"How many guards did they take?" Robin inquired, wishing to ensure their safety.

"Around twenty guards, Sir Robin," James answered.

"Very well." Robin turned his back on James, his eyes taking in the carnage. "A horrible massacre," he whispered to himself. Then he turned his gaze back to James. "James, please ask someone of the young guards to remove the bodies from the camp and bury them… somewhere..." He sighed deeply.

"In an unmarked grave in the desert," Carter finished, his voice firm.

"As you command, captain," James said, bowing his head.

Robin didn't fail to notice a slight sarcasm in James' tone. "As I command," he retorted.

Robert and Carter smiled sardonically. Edmund was silent. John and Much shared intrigued glances.

They walked into the tent through the cool draped entrance way. The king stood near the table with maps, looking into the emptiness. Three men, including de Tosny and de Vere, guarded Sir Edward of Scrivelsby, who had tried to kill the king at the beginning of the massacre. The corpses of the killed assassins were removed from the royal tent, but carpets, bedcovers, tapestries, pillows, and the sand around were soaked with blood. Everything had a trace of the bloody butchering.

King Richard veered his gaze to his guests. "Quite a good end of the day," he commented dryly.

Everyone bowed and the lion dismissed them from a bow with a wave of his hand.

"Quite a massacre," Robin retorted, his expression grim, his eyes blank. He preferred to use neutral words, not dramatic and flaring words to express his true opinion about the battle – sheer horror.

"A treacherous massacre," Carter pointed out.

Robert gave a husky laugh. "Extremely treacherous."

Robin looked calm, but his eyes blazed with fury. "Three traitors, and all of them from the private guard. We are _in the midst of traitors – everyone can be a traitor._ "

"Well, we expected that we have a spy among us," the king said coldly.

"There can be more, sire." Carter looked anxious.

"Some traitors could have escaped," Robin added.

Richard nodded in agreement. "Most likely." His eyes were vacant. "We will move the camp tomorrow."

The men were relieved. No one wished to sleep even an hour in the place where they had killed so many men and where everything was soiled with blood.

"As you wish, sire," Robin murmured.

"It seems that Sir Edward of Scrivelsby and his two dead friends are the Black Knights," the king asserted, surveying the traitor who sat on the sand, shackled and miserable.

Robin's gaze flitted to King Richard who was quiet, his face cold and impenetrable, on the background. Richard gave a slight nod, and Robin inclined his head in understanding. "Search Scrivelsby. He must have the ring with the Sheriff of Nottingham's insignia."

As Little John held the man, Edmund of Cranfield ransacked him. At first, nothing was discovered in his inner pockets and sleeves of his tunic. Finally, Edmund gave a small cry of joy as he extracted the ring from the hardly noticeable inner pocket in Scrivelsby's trousers. Edmund handed the ring to Robin, who passed it to King Richard as the lion stepped forward and paused near Robin.

"Bloody traitor," Robert de Beaumont spat.

Robin stepped towards the king. They exchanged a couple of words, and the lion nodded.

The King of England looked at Roger de Tosny. "Roger, we have already sent Henry de Champagne to Acre; he will set up a blockade in the harbor and search in the city for the shelter of these assassins. They must be hiding somewhere in Acre." He cleared his throat. "Take twenty of our men and help Henry."

De Tosny bowed. "Of course, sire." He nearly ran out of the tent.

"Scrivelsby, what did Prince John and Sheriff Vaisey promise you for your agreement to betray us?" King Richard asked curiously, every word almost exploding with scorn.

"It is a matter of power, sire," Scrivelsby answered briefly.

"What did they promise you?" the king repeated.

"The title of an earl and lands in England and in Aquitaine, much more than you could ever give me, milord," Scrivelsby answered unhesitatingly.

For a long moment, the king watched the traitor in a tense silence. "Well," he said at last, "all traitors dream of power and wealth and high status, but no one thinks that they sell their immortal souls to devil for a handful of coins."

"I don't care whether you are dead or not, the mighty King of England. I don't care who holds Jerusalem – the Saracens, Jews, or Christians! I care only for myself and my wealth. At least I would have been granted lands upon my return home from this hellish place!" Scrivelsby's high-pitched voice coursed through the air.

"How long have you been working for Sheriff Vaisey?" Robin questioned.

"Much more than you can imagine, you arrogant brat," Scrivelsby fired caustically.

"I want to cut his tongue," Much muttered to himself, as though he himself had been insulted.

"You are right. I cannot imagine committing treason. I am not a traitor," Robin snapped. "It was Vaisey who hired the large army of the Saracens that attacked us tonight, didn’t he?"

"I will not answer to this question." Scrivelsby twisted his lips in disdain. "Hood, are you going to forget your chivalrous principles and condemn me to a brutal death, you unwashed outlaw from the forest?"

Much and Little John clenched their fists. The others gave the traitor hateful glares.

"Refresh your memory, Scrivelsby. Robin of Locksley has been pardoned," the monarch interjected. "We believe that Robin has never been an outlaw. Sheriff Vaisey had no right to outlaw Robin. How can he be an outlaw if he was outlawed by traitors?" Even knowing about the Black Knights, he was still astounded that the sheriff had dared outlaw Robin of all men – the most high-ranking nobleman in the shire and one of the most powerful earls in the realm.

Robin gave the lion a surprised gaze as he didn't expect to hear those words in the light of the unpleasant and long lecture he was obliged to listen to upon his arrival in Acre.

The traitor hissed, "Locksley can do everything because he is the king’s grand favorite."

The king raised his hand, signaling for silence. "Scrivelsby, don't envy your captain. You have always been a mediocre warrior, really nothing impressive," he estimated without prejudice.

Robin let out a small laugh, a ghastly sound. The knot of hatred in his gut hardened, spreading its chill up his spine. "When I lived in Sherwood, I bathed in the river very often, more often than you, Scrivelsby, wash in the desert." He smirked. "And if you want to take a bath so much, I will make you a gift – you will appreciate bloodbath I have in mind for you."

"Oh, I am so scared, Locksley!" Scrivelsby mocked. "Of course, you can do everything, you damned hero!"

King Richard approached Sir Edward of Scrivelsby, his eyes glinting savagely in the light of a dozen good beeswax candles that were lit in the tent. "Sir Edward of Scrivelsby, you have tried to kill us with your own hand. You have been betraying us for many years after you pledged your fealty to us when you took the Cross." His tone was arctic, but he smiled in a lop-sided way at the traitor. "We hereby proclaim that you are stripped of all your titles and lands, which are now transferred to your eldest surviving heir if you have one. You will pay for your betrayal with your life."

"You are a dead man walking, Richard Plantagenet," Scrivelsby parried.

"At least we are on our feet, while you are a dead man on your knees," the lion mocked.

"Silence, you foul traitor!" Carter punched Edward twice in the jaw and spat into his face.

Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, hit Edward in the stomach with his right leg, and the traitor howled in pain. "Shut up, you worm! Show at least some respect to your king!" he said between clenched teeth, his expression changing into fierceness. "You are nothing and nobody to us. Oh, how much I wish to make you choke on your own blood now… right now…"

"Sir Edward, you are a low scum, but you are defeated," Edmund said. "Be at least honorable in your defeat and show respect to your liege."

Much and Little John, as well as several other men, kept silent, not daring interfere.

As he heard the outrageous insult towards King Richard, Robin's blood boiled with black rage. Robin stepped forward aggressively and smashed his fist into Edward of Scrivelsby’s jaw. His fist clenched just inches from the hilt of his scimitar as he was struggling with the growing desire to spill treacherous blood here and now. Overwhelmed by anger, he twirled around on the same spot a few times, his gaze fierce and piercing to the core. His heart was almost exploding with blood-curdling hatred, and Robin lost control of himself. He approached the traitor again, drew his scimitar, and pressed it to Scrivelsby’s throat, drops of blood trickling down the man’s neck.

Robin pressed the weapon tightly to the traitor's throat, causing Edward to gasp for air. "I want to kill you right now, Scrivelsby. I have always despised traitors and murderers, and today you have almost murdered our king. You deserve to die for betraying our liege and England, for masquerading as a loyal man for so long. I want to slash your throat right now because you deserve death."

"Robin," Little John called, astonished and horrified.

“I just want his blood,” Robin hissed.

Robert came to Robin. "Robin, he will be dealt with later."

"Robin, cool off your head! Everyone, enough!" It was the king who stopped the argument.

"As you wish, my liege," Robin obeyed; he sheathed his scimitar and stepped aside.

"Robin, are you alright?" John inquired, concerned.

"I hate traitors. Because of such traitors, loyal and good men were brutally murdered today," Robin replied coldly as he made a step towards the king.

The king observed the man who had been betraying him for so long with a cold and detached expression. "Robin and Edmund, he is yours now. Decide between yourselves who will talk with him, but without noise. We don't need public executions and tittle-tattle in the camp,” he passed judgment

Little John noticed as the lion nodded at Edmund of Cranfield, and Edmund nodded back. He had already begun to understand the system of discreet watching of Robin and protecting him in battles and from horrors: with his slight nod, the king sanctioned Edmund to do a dirty work and supervise the torture of the treacherous guard to get necessary information, mentioning Robin's name only as a simple formality and knowing that Edmund had understood him.

Robin's face was still cold, but it looked livelier and more natural than during the battle. Darkness was releasing its grip on him, and he was slowly becoming himself again. "Take this traitor away. Put him on the rack. Make him talk about his association with the Black Knights and Sheriff Vaisey." He sighed. "If he doesn't talk within two days, kill him – without noise."

"Robin, I will do everything as you command. Then I will make my report to you," Edmund obeyed.

The king shook his head approvingly. "Take this traitor away."

Robin snapped his fingers, and three guards, whom he believed to be loyal, appeared in the tent. At their puzzled expression as they stared at their wounded and shackled comrade, Robin briefly explained the case and ordered to keep silent. He instructed them to deal with the prisoner, and they forced Scrivelsby to his feet and hauled him by his hair, dragging him away from the tent.

King Richard looked between Robin, Carter, and Robert. "Robin, Carter, and Robert, I owe you today, for you saved my life in the very last instance. And England owes you more," he said in a personal tone, dropping his royal "we". "I owe all of you my life. You were brave and loyal, and this will never be forgotten." He swept his eyes over the Crusaders who smiled at their liege. "Thank you."

"Sire," they said together, bowing their heads.

The king cocked his eyebrow. "I have excellent Bordeaux wine in the packages in the corner of the tent. Thanks to my beloved mother, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, it has been recently delivered to Acre." He chuckled. "I know that many of you have good taste in wine."

"Thank you, milord, thank you! This is an amazing gift! Your wines have always been the object of Robin's love and of my love. I have grown to be fascinated with your delicious taste in wines!" Much prattled happily, and he smiled despite his nervousness, slowly relaxing.

The Crusaders sniggered quietly.

"Much!" Robin shot him an annoying look.

The lion laughed. "Then take it, Much. Take everything, but don't forget about the others."

Much flushed. "I am sorry."

"There is nothing Much needs to apologize for," Richard conciliated, smiling lightly. "Robin and Robert, I know how full of yourself and how greedy you are for good wine. I insist that you show consideration to the needs of your comrades and friends, or you will face my wrath."

The Crusaders laughed lightly, relieved that the battle was over and that the king was safe. Even Little John gave a short laugh, although he still found it strange to be among bloodshed and carnage.

The lion nodded at Carter and Aubrey de Vere, the Earl of Oxford. "Carter and Aubrey, join me in my second tent. I have a task for you."

With a tiny smile on his lips, King Richard swung around, slowly and regally, and walked away; his favorites and several guards were trailing behind him.

Robin stared at Edmund, his second-in-command. "Edmund, triple the number of the guards outside and inside the camp. Report to me how many good men we lost," he requested.

"Sure, Robin." Edmund slightly lowered his head in a bow.

"My men from the second guard will take care of the outer circle around the camp. I will triple the number of the guards there, too," Robert intervened.

"Excellent, Robert," Robin said. "Now we should take care of the wounded."

Robert nodded, sighing. "You are reading my mind, my little bird. Let's go."

"One day, Robert de Beaumont, I will bewitch you, and you will become a little bird, too – like me. And then we together will have a lovesome flight across the sea," Robin retorted, a wicked twinkle in his eyes. "And I will make you fly at such a frightening speed that you will be begging me to convert you into a man again."

The Crusaders gave a sincere laugh, their set features relaxing as some of the tension left them.

"Ouch!" Robert grinned impudently. "Robin, the fact that you are an impeccably well-mannered and disgustingly witty bird will make my journey with you even more pleasant." He outstretched his arms. "And if I am tired during the flight, you will surely never abandon me to the whims of fate! You love me too much! And you will have to carry me on yourself and simultaneously fly. Think about this."

This time, they laughed more merrily, temporary brushing their concerns aside. Everyone loved to watch sarcastic and witty skirmishes between the Earl of Huntingdon and the Earl of Leicester.

"I am fine with your offer, Robert," Robin chuckled. He glanced across the tent, his eyes searching for the wounded, and his eyes flew to Much; he smiled at his former manservant. "Much, you were wounded. Let's take you to the medical tent." He sniggered. "Let's fly there."

Much smiled, rejoiced that Robin cared for him so much. "I am fine, really; it is just a scratch. But if you are going, then I will accompany you."

Robin wrapped his arm around Much's back, his face concerned. "Much, your wound must be cleaned and bandaged. I don't want you to contract a fever."

§§§

As he promised, Robin took care of Much and witnessed the king's personal physician clean and bandage Much's wound. Then they spent more than an hour with other wounded soldiers, trying to calculate how many they had lost in the massacre. Many soldiers were grievously wounded, some lost their fingers and limbs, some struggled for breath, and many were waiting for death to cradle them in their arms. The distinctive, sickening odor of blood overpowered the stench of death and sweat.

Robin of Locksley was tired, very tired. After he had given the commands to the night guards and had ordered to be on triple high alert, Robin excused himself and marched to his tent. He was relieved that there had been no bloody fight in his own tent, for if there had been the battlefield there, he would have refused to go inside until the Crusaders moved their camp to another place.

As Much was no longer his manservant, Robin had hired a new squire upon arrival in Acre – Lionel, who was a very young dark-haired man from Aquitaine. Robin asked Lionel to bring him a goblet of wine, which he emptied in one long swallow. He didn't drink more wine, fearing to quickly become inebriated in the light of his exhaustion and emotional instability.

Robin lay on the bed; he allowed his squire to cover his body with a silk sheet. In spite of craving to have some so much needed rest, he didn't remove his chainmail and his heavy armor, for he had to be ready to fight for his king's life again in case there was a new attack on the camp. He also kept his scimitar unsheathed on the other side of the bed, his hand on the hilt. A full quiver of arrows and his Saracen recurved bow lay on a chair near the bed.

It was hard to fall asleep on that night, but the fingers of sleep crept over Robin, and the boundaries of the world dissolved: the things he saw in his dreams and the things that had happened outside tonight mingled in his conscience. He dreamt of himself in the image of the Crusader slaughtering the Saracens and the Black Knights with a smug smile on his face. The visions in his dreams were dreadful. He saw rivers of warm blood flowing on the yellow sand turning crimson, and, like rain in a storm, spilling out of bodies of his enemies. He hankered to run away to avoid drowning in a sea of blood, but wherever he went, corpses of dead Saracens and severed limbs clogged his path.

Robin envisioned that he finally found someone's horse of dazzling white color, as if it were a symbol of purity. He thought that he would gallop away from the battlefield and leave death behind. Robin could see himself mounting his white stallion. He spurred on the animal in its flanks, making the way through a stream of blood and human debris. The white stallion was galloping on the battlefield, blood splashing over its hooves and fetlocks, its white mane stained with red. Robin fled the battlefield and rode off into the desert, but he didn't manage to break out of the images of slaughter and death – innumerable graves were fully carved into the sandy ground, only a few of them marked with stones and most of them being anonymous and common.

The ferocity of the nightmare increased, and Robin shuddered, tossing his head on the soft pillows. He saw himself riding further and further away from the battlefield. Yet, the images around him made him shudder with double strength as his eyes were taking in the flickering sight of corpses, chopped off heads, and severed limbs lying unheeded and unburied on the sand. Nothing changed as his horse covered more and more miles – death and bloodshed were everywhere, and distant drums beat out the rhythms of death. Robin feared to lose his way in the maze of corpses. He was trapped, not knowing in which direction to ride to find something untouched by the massacre.

The longer his dream continued, the more Robin suffered from physical disgust and abomination. He awoke with a loud, almost wild scream. He sat up in a bed, staring into the emptiness and tipping his head back against the cool headboard of his bed to lessen the strain on his shoulders. His squire Lionel also awoke and rushed to his lord, but Robin waved a hand, dismissing the young man. Then the flap of the tent opened, and Much emerged at the doorway, his anxious eyes scanning the area and focusing at Robin.

"Robin, how are you?" Much asked as he slowly walked towards the bed where Robin rested.

Robin forced a smile. "I am as good as anyone can feel after such… grievous bloodshed." He looked at Lionel, motioning to leave him alone with Much.

The young captain closed his eyes, although it made no difference. Despair squeezed him so tightly that his body longed to empty itself: the wine from his stomach, the tears from his eyes, the blood from his veins, and even his beating heart from his chest. The despair that had accumulated in his heart during all the years of fighting was so black and abysmal that it seemed to have shaken his belief in God and justice. Only Much's presence in the tent kept him from collapse. Despite the fact that his tent was clean, he still felt the sour smell of blood in the air, which penetrated his small shelter from outside. He looked like he was struggling not to vomit over his bed.

"Much, I cannot be a good fellow right now,” Robin warned.

"I know, Robin. I cannot sleep at all," Much lamented. He settled on the edge of the bed and took Robin's hand in his own. "It was a horrible massacre. But we saw worse during the siege of Acre."

Robin stared at his friend, his expression impassive, but his eyes full of vulnerability and pain. "Much, I know that we were trying to defend our king, and we had to kill so many people today." He paused for an instance. "And yet… this massacre was organized by our countrymen, by the king's own brother."

"This is abominable! This is dreadful!" Much bellowed as rage engulfed him. "Prince John deserves to be massacred! He deserves to be executed for his crimes!"

"Shhh," Robin whispered, putting a finger to Much's lips. "Think before speaking, my friend."

Much looked scared. "I am saying nothing… I am saying nothing…"

"It is alright. Nobody heard you."

"I hope so, Robin."

Robin was silent for some moments. His mind was bent on all the regicide attempts Prince John and the Black Knights had already committed, and anger consumed his entire being. He would have liked to take John captive and beat him within an inch of his life; but he was overmastered by another queer feeling stronger than his hatred and loathing, as if someone were soothing and comforting him, whispering that he could never – under any circumstances – harm the prince.

Robin heaved a sigh and remained silent for a little longer; his anger attenuated. "Much, it hardly matters what Prince John deserves." Acid disdain etched his voice. "He is King Richard's brother and possibly an heir, and I fear Richard has already started to consider Prince Arthur inappropriate. The king's brother will never be officially accused of treason."

"Unfortunately, it is true." Much lowered his head.

Robin swallowed sobs rising in his throat. His eyes were now shimmering with rebellious tears of pain and guilt, which he had been holding back with all the restraint of which he had been capable of mustering only a moment ago. He clenched his fists and dug his nails into the palms of his calloused hands, as if he were intent on making the deep ache in his soul match the pain the physical pain he was inflicting on himself. But the harder he pressed, the less he felt.

"I am not as idealistic as I used to be, but I still don't understand this world and life," Robin uttered in a hollow voice, looking at Much, tears trickling down his pale cheeks. "With a heavy heart, I can accept the fact that we have to kill the infidels who attack us at Saladin's order, for we are still our enemies. But I cannot accept that my own countrymen are ready to wash their hands in the blood of so many Christians, possibly their brothers and other relatives, just to get power and wealth." A sob escaped his dry lips. "Am I going mad? Is the world going mad with me?"

There were tears in Much's eyes, too. As he looked at his friend with alarm, he realized how very much vulnerable and weak Robin felt. Much was stunned with the amount of raw pain and guilt in Robin's eyes as his former master let his guard down. He knew that Robin had been a sensitive man with a tender heart, but he had a few chances to see the Earl of Huntingdon’s naked soul, who always was reserved and preferred to hide his true emotions from the world. But now Robin was completely defenseless and very vulnerable, so human and so dear to Much's heart.

Much's anguished heart was collapsing in pain. "Robin, don't try to understand the world. Don't waste time on this futile mission – you will fail and will end up with a broken heart."

"Much, I don't understand this life, and it hurts me so much," Robin murmured.

Much squeezed his friend's hand. "Please don't blame yourself for taking so many lives today. You had to kill to guarantee the survival of King Richard, your comrades, as well as my survival and yours, too."

"I am always ready to give up my own life to save King Richard," Robin retorted without hesitation.

"You have always been very bold." Much began stroking Robin's hair; Robin didn't protest.

Robin sucked in his breath, and fresh tears stung his eyes. "But I have been fighting since I turned nineteen, and now I am… so weary of war. I am so tired of death and bloodshed." His shaking voice broke off in a sob, and he pressed his fingers to his lips, barely able to speak. "Will I ever be able to live without death around me? Will I ever feel in harmony with myself?"

Robin stiffened. A choked sob tumbled from his lips. Cupping his own face, he started weeping, expressing all his pain and anguish in heartrending sobs. He didn't want to cry in Much's presence, but he no longer could pretend nothing could hurt him, and he needed to release his emotions. He felt Much lean forward and pull him close in an embrace, burying the face into his shoulder.

"Shhh, Robin. It will be alright. We will survive," Much whispered to the distraught friend; he wasn't trying to repress his own sobs, releasing his shock from the massacre in a swell of tears.

"I am… so tired." Robin's voice cracked, and fresh tears filled his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Much's back, clinging to him and sobbing.

"Shhh," Much murmured, hugging Robin with one hand, his other hand tenderly stroking the gorgeous mane of sandy-colored hair. "In the morning, you will feel better. Your fears will fade away. You will forget this night - it will be only like one of many bloody battles we survived through in Acre."

At that rare moment, Robin didn't think that he was showing his weakness and emotional fragility. Much eagerly responded to his friend's needs, holding his former master in a tight and warm embrace for a long while, until the shuddering of Robin's body subsided and his weeping almost stopped. The physical proximity to each other gave them a blissful feeling of unity in their grief and sorrow, soothing their fears and supplying them with the strength that was vital to survive and live another day.

Much and Robin didn't speak as they stopped sobbing. They didn't need any words to express their anguish when they were so close. _They were brothers-in-arms, a captain and his loyal man, both loyal to King Richard and England_ , but one of them – Much – more loyal to Robin than to anyone else. They were the two devoted friends who together had survived through hell in the Holy Land, had spilled a lot of blood, and whose torturous emotions were cut from the same cloth. They were the two men who had known each other for so long, who needed and loved each other. _Robin and Much were more than brothers_.

A little later, Robin and Much went out of Robin’s tent. Very few people were able to sleep calmly on the night of death parade, and many Crusaders sat around burning campfires. They found the king in the western part of the camp, where there were fewer traces of the recent bloody battle; the area was heavily guarded. In the flickering of the firelight, the Crusaders’ faces seemed more somber and concentrated; everyone was affected by the events in the king’s camp.

Robin smiled as he saw the King of England and his favorites sitting in a circle near the large campfire. Robert de Beaumont and Edmund of Cranfield occupied the places next to the king; Carter of Stretton, Roger de Tosny, and Aubrey de Vere sat on the opposite side of the same campfire, facing King Richard. Little John was also there; he was the only man among the others present who wasn’t held in the king’s high favor. All others stayed aside, letting the king have some privacy with his favorites.

Robin tugged at the sleeve of Much’s tunic. “Much, let’s join King Richard and others.” He signaled his friend to follow him, intending to talk to their liege instead of wasting time on sleep.

As King Richard saw Robin, he beckoned his favorite to himself. “Robin, come and sit with us,” he said with a smile. “Why are you not sleeping?”

“I cannot sleep tonight, my liege,” Robin answered as he bowed to the king.

Robert de Beaumont looked very grim. “It is… difficult to sleep after the massacre.”

Edmund nodded at Robin and shifted on the sand, allowing his captain to sit down next to King Richard. Much bowed to Richard, and then settled on the ground at Robin’s right.

Richard shook his head in agreement. “I understand, Robin.” He sighed. “I cannot even stay in my own tent… because blood is everywhere.” He sighed again. “We have to wait until we relocate the camp.”

“I doubt it will help,” Robin opined, his expression pessimistic before turning blank. “At times, I think that nothing will help me after everything I had seen and done with my own hands.”

The king eyed Robin with concern, then released a heavy sigh. He knew that Robin was suffering from nightmares since their first battle near the walls of Acre. When Robin had been dying from the wound Guy had caused him during the fateful Saracen attack, Richard had witnessed feverish Robin gripped by dreams about all the battles they had fought in the Holy Land. Robin’s emotional state had worried Richard very much, and it had been one of the reasons why he had sent Robin home, thinking that the young man had needed to recover and have his well-earned rest from war. Richard had never told anyone that he also had dreadful nightmares that tormented him since his first battle in Aquitaine years ago during the revolt of 1173–74 against his father – King Henry II of England.

Richard took Robin’s hand in his. “Robin, listen to me,” he said softly; everyone who sat around the same campfire relapsed into silence. “I was very young when I led my troops against my own father in Aquitaine and Normandy.” He looked into his captain’s eyes. “When I killed the first man on the battlefield, I felt that I would never be the same young and ambitious prince again. I realized that the days of my youth were gone forever and that my life would never be as carefree and easy as it had been in my early childhood, when my mother hadn’t been imprisoned yet.”

Everyone was listening to the king’s confessions. It was a rare event when Richard spoke so open-heartedly in the presence of his soldiers, even if they were mainly his favorites.

Robin glanced into the king’s eyes, his expression highly concentrated. “The revolt against King Henry was a difficult time for you, my liege. The failure and Queen Eleanor’s capture were disastrous.”

Robert sniffed. “Queen Eleanor’s imprisonment wasn’t the fairest thing King Henry did in his long life.”

Carter, Much, and Edmund smiled knowingly, others smirked, while Little John looked puzzled. Robin and Robert were the only two men who dared make such blunt statements about the king’s life.

Richard smiled as he gazed between Robin and Robert. “This is not what I wanted to say.” He paused, feeling the dull ache in his heart as his mind traveled to the events of the past. He lowered his voice. “I realized that the world can never be like I imagined it in childhood. I realized that you always have to fight to defend people you love, yourself, and your rights, to survive in battle, and to make your life right in your own way. I realized that I would always have to kill to defend my rights for the Duchy of Aquitaine and perhaps even for the throne, although at that time I didn’t think that I would ever become the king because all my elder brothers were alive.”

“Gaining power and wealth always results in fighting and killing,” Edmund commented.

“Death is a natural part of our lives,” Carter added.

The lion gave a nod. “Of course,” he said curly, again looking between Robin and Robert. “And what do my words tell you about life and the world, Robin and Robert?”

Every pair of eyes was turned on the king. Everyone knew about the idealistic picture of the world which Robin and Robert had in their minds. The comrades liked the dreaming side of the two captains as it made them content and happy in the world of violence and bloodshed. Yet, many guards were astounded that Robin and Robert dreamt of the things that could never exist in real life. Now the king’s men were utterly amazed because it was the first time when they heard the king’s lecture to his favorites, thinking that the lion tried to make the two idealists disillusioned.

“There is always bloodshed, and there is always someone who is destined to die today or tomorrow,” Robert supplied, his expression darker than a stormy cloud in the sky before a violent storm. “But it is very difficult to accept the fact that violence is an essential part of the world.”

Robin tried to take his hand away from Richard’s, but the king only squeezed it tighter. “Bloodshed is inevitable, although there was a time when I was Robin Hood and tried not to kill.” He lowered his eyes. “I was naïve to think that I could defeat my enemies without spilling blood in the process.”

The king smiled. Richard was pleased to see that Robin was thinking about the unrealistic nature of his idealist principles and the idea of Robin Hood as well. Yet, a part of his heart didn’t want Robin to lose the innocence of his mind completely as it was exactly what made his young friend so unique. He was also satisfied that Robert began to re-assess his convictions. At the same time, he feared that complete wreckage of the idealistic world which existed in the minds of these two young heroes could cause them too much pain; he was especially worried about Robin who went further in his idealization of the world than Robert did – Robin became Robin Hood, a fighter for universal peace and justice.

“Straight to the point,” Richard said slowly, his eyes darting from Robin to Robert. “And even if you don’t like that you have to kill, there is nothing you can do to stop the bloodshed. You have to accept reality and make a hard bargain with God and life to let yourself live in peace.”

Robert felt his chest heaving with emotions. “It is not easy at all. I failed to do this so far. There is no peace in my heart.” He trailed off, thinking. “Maybe I will feel better when we return home.”

Robin shook his head. “No, you will fail to find peace even if you stop killing, Robert.” Thoughts of his helplessness in his fight for justice were swirling in his head, and he had to force himself to look composed. “I have no peace too. And I am afraid that I will never find peace even with myself if I accept that all my efforts to make this world a better place were futile in the long run.”

Robert stared into the flames. “I have long noticed how painful it is.”

Richard’s heart missed a beat. “Life is never easy for an idealist,” he continued in a soft, almost silken tone. “But the achievement of peace in your heart depends largely on how strong you are, and the two of you, Robin and Robert, are strong enough to find a right balance in life.”

Much, Carter, and Edmund smiled, amazed how deeply the king cared for his grand favorites. Roger and Aubrey listened to the conversation of philosophical nature without interference. Little John’s mind was reeling from Richard’s speculations about idealism; he didn’t like the chat because it meant that the fight of Robin and the outlaws in Nottingham was doomed to failure and worthless.

“I will cherish your advice, my liege,” Robert said gratefully.

Robin smiled heartily. “Thank you, milord.”

Richard waved his head. “Always welcome.” Then he turned his head and stared at his beloved Blondel de Nesle, who sat close to a nearby campfire. “Blondel, play _Pax in nomine Domini by Marcabru_.”

All the guards stared at Blondel in anticipation. There was a perfect silence in the camp.

Holding the lute in his hands, Blondel de Nesle bowed to the king and then landed on the sand between Roger de Tosny and Aubrey de Vere; he was now facing the king as they sat in a circle around the fire. Then Blondel began to play _“Pax in nomine Domini”_ in Latin, which was the famous song composed by Marcabru, one of the earliest Crusade troubadours whose patron was William X of Aquitaine. It was the song in honor of the failed Second Crusade, the loss of Tortosa to the Almohads, and the death of Baldwin of Marash, but before the death of Raymond of Poitiers.

Blondel de Nesle was one of the most famous trouvères, the northern French poets who followed the tradition of the Provençal troubadours. Being King Richard’s favorite minstrel, Blondel was taken on the Crusade, and the lion kept him close to enjoy the courtly love in Outremer.

Born of Norman parents and brought up in a homely Sussex manor, Blondel had never been out of England, except for the wonderful sojourn with King Richard in Navarre. Richard’s offer to accompany him to Acre had been accepted with gratitude by the young man. He thought that his presence in Outremer in the king’s closest entourage was an amazing luck that life could have ever given him.

_Fez Marcabruns los moz e•l so._

_Auiaz qe di:_

_cum nos a fait per sa dousor_

_lo seignorius celestiaus,_

_probet de nos, un lavador_

_c’anc for outramar no•n fon taus_

_en de lai enves Josaphat;_

_e d’aquest de sai vos conort._

Robin shut his eyes, feeling uneasiness settle in his gut. “ _Peace in the name of the Lord! Marcabru made the verse and the tune. Hear what he says: how the heavenly Lord in His loving-kindness has created for us, in our vicinity, a washing-place such as never existed before, apart from over there near the valley of Josaphat in Outremer; but it is about the one over here that I exhort you.”_

In the song, the singer urged the listeners to cleanse themselves of their sins by taking the Cross and re-conquering the Holy Land from the heathens. Robin repressed an ironic dark laugh and Robert openly scoffed; Much frowned at the sight of Robert’s face, but the royal favorite only shook his head. Everyone’s spirits weren’t improved by the song because it reminded them of the things they wished to forget. Richard himself was smiling with a strange, detached smile.

Robin watched Richard from the corner of his eye, thinking why the king asked Blondel to play the song that apparently made everyone feel uncomfortable, as if they had suppressed memories of something awful happening behind a veil of relaxation. He suddenly remembered the passion and enthusiasm he had heard in Richard’s voice when they had spoken about the Crusade after the coronation in London; at that time, the fire in Richard’s eyes had earned him Robin’s undying respect and eternal devotion.

_Que•l seigner que sap tot cant es_

_e sap tot quant er e c’anc fo_

_nos a promes_

_coron’e nom d’enperador;_

_e•ill beutatz sera sabençaus,_

_qu’e cel luira(n) al lavador_

_plus que l’estella gauzignaus,_

_ab so que vengem Dieu del tort_

_qe•il fant sai e lai ves Domas._

As Blonde started the fourth verse of the song, Robin thought that he would have looked puzzled if he hadn’t been so good at hiding his emotions. _“For the Lord who knows all that is, and knows all there will be and ever was, has promised us a crown and the title of emperor; and its beauty will be sapiential, for it will shine in the sky at the washing-place more than the morning star, provided that we avenge God of the wrongs that they do to Him both here and over there towards Damascus.”_

Robin turned his gaze at Much who shifted uncomfortably on the sand. Then he looked at King Richard, and a suspicion nested in his mind: Richard’s odd smile and his detached expression meant that the king was thinking of the past when he himself had been enthusiastic about re-conquering the Holy Land from the infidels. Now Robin saw the same bright fire in the king’s blue eyes as the one he had seen when the king had told him about his upcoming departure to Acre; he had rarely seen the same fire in Richard’s eyes after many long years they had spent in the Holy Land. Suddenly, the realization dawned upon him: Richard himself needed encouragement he drew from the words of the song.

_Probet del lignatge Caï,_

_del primeiran home fello,_

_a tans aici_

_c’us a Dieu non porta honor._

_Veirem qui•ll er amics coraus,_

_c’ab la vertut del lavador_

_vos sera Jhesus comunaus._

_E tornatz los garsos atras_

_q’en agur crezon et en sort!_

King Richard’s eyes locked with Robin’s as the troubadour started singing another verse of the song. Richard laughed at Robin’s attentive and searching look, already knowing that his captain guessed his secret thoughts. Robert and Edmund also understood the king’s thoughts, smiling sadly. _“Akin to the line of Cain, the first evil man, there is a great number here of whom not one shows honor to God. We shall see who will be His close friend, for with the miracle of the washing-place Jesus will be in communion with you. And drive back the rabble who believe in augury and divination!”_

Robin laughed bitterly as Blondel started singing about the washing place once again. Once he himself had believed that he would automatically end up in Heaven after death just because he had killed the Saracens who worshiped their false God. Now he laughed at himself, wondering how he could have been so naïve to believe the pope’s words years ago. He doubted that his soul would go to paradise after all the crimes he had committed in the land of Christ. An acerbic feeling of guilt suffocated him at the thought about the number of people he had killed; he admitted to himself that Nottingham and nearby villages would probably be not enough to bury the corpses of those men.

_E•ill luxurios corna-vi,_

_coita-disnar, buffa-tizo,_

_crup’-en-cami,_

_remanran, aqeil felpidor!_

_E Dieus vol los arditz e•ls saus_

_asaiar a son lavador,_

_e cill gaitaran los ostaus_

_e plantara[n] lur coutr’en l’ort,_

_so per qu’eu a lor anta•ls chas._

Robin shook his head, and Richard smiled at him sadly. _“But the lecherous wine-trumpeters, dinner-gobblers, brand-blowers, hearth-squatters will remain behind, those pilferers! For God wants to test the brave and the sound in His washing-place, and these others will keep an eye on the houses and dig their coulter into the garden, which is why I hound them to their shame.”_

The words in the song were about the courage the Crusaders displayed on the battlefields of Outremer. As Robin heard that, bile rose in his throat. There was no glory in killing, and once he had been an utter fool to assume that the holy war would make him a better man.

In the Holy Land, Robin had become stronger because he had learned to survive in terrible conditions and fight for the lives of the king and his comrades, as well as for his own survival. Yet, he had also lost some of his innocent beliefs about life and the world, even though he still dreamt of peace and justice. Robin was a tormented soul that had tried to find absolution in Sherwood Forest when he had become Robin Hood, had set a no-killing policy for himself and his gang, and had fought for the people, saving their lives and feeding them. Nevertheless, he remained _a man who had lost a part of himself among the endless sandy dunes_ ; a part of his heart had been buried in the inimical desert after the first battle in Acre.

Listening to the song, Robin repented that he had decided to fight in the Holy Land. The only benefit from the holy war was that he had become an outstanding swordsman and a great military strategist; he could use his skills to protect his king, and it was the only thing that eased his conscience and helped him somehow justify his participation in the Crusade. King Richard’s protection was Robin’s divine mission, and once it had been the only thought that had kept him sane during the long years in the Holy Land when he had dreamt of going home and meeting Marian at least one more time in his life.

At dawn, Edmund of Cranfield made a detailed report to Robin about the outcome of the massacre. The king's troops lost around one hundred and twenty good men, including around forty men in the private guard; more than one-third of the victims were killed in their sleep. Robin was seething with anger at the thought that the Black Knights had killed so many people: he released countless curses in Norman-French, and the soldiers in the private guard only nodded at their captain in silent agreement. Only Richard managed to make Robin calmer after a short dinner in the royal tent.

In several days after the massacre, the mood of the king's men was somber in the wake of the latest bloodthirsty events. Sir Edward of Scrivelsby was executed at Edmund’s order; he was tortured and confessed that Sheriff Vaisey and Lord Sheridan coordinated the plan from England and that the Earl of Buckingham worked hard with Vaisey’s Turkish allies to prepare the massacre in Acre. Unfortunately, the traitor said nothing about Vaisey’s accomplices in the Holy Land.

It was clear that the danger for the king’s life was great. Obviously, Scrivelsby had sold to the Saracens some secret information that had helped him organize the unprecedented massacre in the king’s camp. Robin didn't exclude that there was another spy among the guards, and it was the most unpleasant issue. The blockade in the harbor gave no results, and the Black Knights escaped.

However, soon gloomy spirits flopped over, as if a gentle soughing wind had blown away the smoke and cleared the air. The general mood in the Crusaders’ camp significantly improved when King Richard officially declared the betrothal between Sir Robert Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and captain of the king's private guard, and Lady Melisende Plantagenet, Countess de Bordeaux in her own right and the king's first cousin. Very few people, especially among high-ranking noblemen at the war court, were astounded that the king had chosen Robin for Melisende. Robin whirled in a flurry of excitement as everyone congratulated him and wished him happiness. The majority of the Crusaders believed that Robin deserved to have this match; yet, some resented him for being in such a great royal favor that the monarch gave him his beloved cousin's hand in a prospective matrimony.

Robin of Locksley and King Richard signed a betrothal agreement, intending to arrange the wedding ceremony beautifully in two months. Two months and Robin would be married to the beautiful lady with royal blood in her veins, but anyway to the relative stranger. Surprisingly, Melisende gave Robin an enchanting smile; she didn't utter a single word of protest and accepted the match. It was a matter of politics and loyalty, Robin said to himself over and over again. Yet, he was also fascinated by Melisende and was greatly attracted to her, even though he didn't choose her by himself.

§§§

Little John felt his heart pounding in delight as he neared the large, elegant Arabic house, with three stores, high and built of smooth white sandstone – the Bassam’s house in the southern part of Acre. Robin gave him a morning off, and he decided to visit Will and Djaq. Unfortunately, being unfamiliar with the city, he lost his way in a maze of narrow darkening streets and crooked alleys, most unpaved and muddy, crowded with loud, brash folk hurrying to mosques or home.

John felt relieved to find his way back to the Gates of Acre. As John said that he served in the king’s private guard and was Robin of Locksley’s friend, the sergeant from the city gate politely agreed to help him and personally escorted him to the southern district of Acre. A myriad of foreign languages buzzed around John's head, but he failed to understand them, for he knew only English; in the Crusaders’ camp, he mainly spoke English, understanding only a few words in Norman-French.

John dismounted and thanked the sergeant. The man smiled at him and asked humbly whether Captain Locksley had really returned to Acre. John was once again amazed by the magnitude of impact Robin’s name had on the Crusaders who adored and loved him. Robin was a war hero, the legend of the Holy Land and of England. For all his goodness and good deals for the people, Little John gradually grew to love Robin like a family member, despite the differences in their birth and upbringing.

Konnie, one of Bassam’s servant girls, met Little John on the front steps and led him inside the house. It was a splendid house, practically a palace, with spacious cool rooms, a huge garden, a fountain, stables, and a large warehouse attached. They came inside the luxurious room filled with tall elegant pillars and flapping muslin drapes and equipped with polished cedar wood furniture, the floor covered with thick carpets and strewn with plump cushions.

Will and Djaq smiled at John and hugged their friend in turns. They sat down on the large cushions near the low table, and Djaq asked the servant girl to bring Arabic snacks and refreshments for John. The youth left, narrowing her slanting eyes at John and Will, for she was displeased with the Englishmen’s presence at the house. In less than five minutes, Konnie and another girl returned, bringing two silver trays with dishes of exotic food – tiny morsels of meat, dishes of stewed mutton and chicken, bread made with honey and dates, and spiced glazed pears.

John eyed Will and Djaq. The changes in Djaq were profound, and there was only a little resemblance to the woman whom the outlaws had saved from the mines: she was dressed like a rich Saracen woman, wearing a long pale rose dress, made of elaborate fabric blended of silk and silver threads, the front embroiled with gems, and a headscarf over her head. Despite living at the Bassam’s house, Will was dressed in Christian clothes – black woolen hose and a brown tunic, but his head was wrapped in a turban, his feet shod with silken slippers. Will’s his skin seemed to have darkened a little bit.

“This is an amazing place!” Little John looked around in wonder, his eyes scanning several niches scattered in the walls, where pigeons sit behind wire doors. The cooing was heard in the background.

“These are Bassam’s birds. I have seen them here last time,” Djaq said softly.

John smiled, putting a piece of meat into his mouth. “They are beautiful.”

“How is Robin?” Djaq asked.

“Robin has changed,” John replied. “He is peace-loving, but he is different on the battlefield.”

“Robin becomes a soldier on the battlefield, without a soul and a heart, dispatching his enemies one by one. I guess that Robin is darker than he was during the two bloody fights with the sheriff’s guards in the forest,” Djaq said, her words mirroring John’s thoughts.

“Yes,” John confirmed.

“Does Robin remember Marian?” Will questioned.

Little John sighed. “Robin is marrying Lady Melisende Plantagenet, the king’s cousin. He is already betrothed to her.”

Djaq looked surprised, but then her expression turned serious. “Is it the king’s order?”

John shook his head. “It was a request, but Robin agreed.”

“He doesn’t love this lady,” Will stated matter-of-factly.

“This is a political marriage,” John confirmed.

“But a political marriage is surely better than dying from a broken heart,” Djaq noted.

“While it is true, it is also unfair to Robin, for he doesn’t love his bride,” Will said confidently.

“I cannot understand why Marian broke her betrothal to Robin and married Gisborne, a murderer and a traitor,” John growled angrily. “She had no right to turn Robin down so cruelly!”

“A woman’s heart is full of mysteries. It is not an easy thing to understand, especially Marian’s heart,” Djaq mused. There was a philosophical note in her voice, and her companions recognized it. “Maybe Marian had done a great favor to Robin by leaving him before they were married.”

Will understood Robin’s feelings for Gisborne because he himself hated Vaisey as much as Robin hated Guy; the sheriff killed his father, but he was still alive. “Probably Robin’s marriage to the king’s cousin is a good thing. But I agree that Marian probably made a wrong choice of a husband.”

Giving him a long stare, Djaq smiled at Will and put her hand on his shoulder. “It is not our deal. Let them live their own lives, and we will live our lives,” she remarked tactfully.

Will’s lips curved in a benevolent smile. “Let’s hope Robin will be content in his matrimony.”

“And how are you?” Djaq asked gently.

“I underestimated the holy war, but I was warned,” John stated, with a touch of bitterness.

Djaq understood what he meant. “I have heard about the massacre in the king’s camp.”

John swallowed hard. “It was dreadful and very bloodthirsty.”

“I cannot imagine how you survived,” Will interjected.

“It was not easy. There were moments when I thought I would die,” John lamented.

Djaq gave John a sympathetic glance. “I know what you mean, John. Most importantly, you are alive.”

“Yes,” John said with a smile. “Let’s speak about you. How are you doing here?”

Djaq smiled heartily, her eyes twinkling with joy. “I am happy to be home, with Will and my uncle.”

“Good,” John said shortly.

She looked at the pigeons, her expression turning wistful and dreamy. “When I was a little girl, I loved these birds. I thought that when I grew up I would live here and look after them.” Then her face evolved into wistfulness. “But it didn’t happen.”

Will took her small hand in his, leaning his head down to hers. “Hey, don’t be sad, my beloved,” he whispered warmly into her ear, his voice droning on her soothingly.

“I am never sad when you are with me,” Djaq murmured, her eyes full of gladness as she held his hand in hers. There was no trace of sadness now in her swarthy face; only gentleness and softness.

Will lowered his gaze, as if embarrassed. Then he looked at Djaq again, a wide smile blossoming on his face. “I will always be with you. I will live where you want me to live.”

John smiled. “When will you marry?”

Djaq suddenly looked sad, almost world-weary. “I don’t know.”

Will glanced away. “Well, everything is complicated.”

“Is everything really alright?” John inquired, concerned.

Djaq turned her gaze at John. “Well, John, you know that a marriage between a Saracen and an unconverted Englishman would be considered heretical. We are still thinking how to marry but without forsaking our religions.”

“Will, but you are wearing a turban!” Little John burst out, not able to hold back his curiosity.

The solemn carpenter nodded. “Yes, I am, because I have to.”

“It is my uncle… Bassam…” Djaq said tiredly, folding her arms over her chest. 

“That’s why I wear a turban. To make my stay here at least a little more pleasant,” Will explained.

Djaq gave a bitter smile. “I hope it will get better over time.”

“Robin sent his man, Sir Legrand, to Nottingham. Sir Legrand carried a message for Allan from Robin; the king agreed to pardon Allan if he helped us defeat the Black Knights,” John informed.

“Very good!” Djaq flashed a bright smile.

Will smiled timidly. “Robin is a good man.”

“Allan may warn the king about Vaisey’s new regicide attempt. Be prepared if he comes here, to Bassam’s house, because Robin gave Allan your contacts in Acre; he believes that you will help Allan find the way to the king’s camp if Allan arrives here,” John continued.

“We will be prepared,” Djaq promised.

The heavy wooden doors opened, and Bassam entered, a stern scowl forming on his forehead. The man was obviously displeased, feeling a surge of resentment as he saw Little John sitting beside Djaq. Bassam was a well-muscled and strong middle-aged man, his skin swarthy and his eyes dark. He was dressed in a long loose robe made of white light silk, a curved dagger at his waist, his head wrapped in a white turban, with his thick, wavy, slightly grizzled black hair curling back from his forehead.

“Saffiya, I was informed that the Crusader is here,” Bassam began in stentorian tones, his expression speaking about the disgust he felt for Christians.

Djaq’s eyes pleaded Bassam to be friendly towards John. “Uncle, my friend John came to visit us.”

Little John looked at Bassam. “Good evening,” he greeted calmly.

“You are the Lionheart’s man now?” Bassam inquired.

John nodded and sighed. “Yes. I am serving under Robin of Locksley’s command.”

“Captain Locksley is the young sandy-haired man who came here with you on the day of your arrival? He is King Richard’s… favored general and friend,” the Saracen said, keeping his tone neutral.

“Yes, this lad was Robin,” John confirmed. “I have no desire to earn favor with my sovereign, but you are right that our king feels special fondness of Robin.”

“I have heard about Captain Locksley quite a lot. He is not the worst trouble in the Holy Land,” Bassam admitted reluctantly. “The Lionheart, not Locksley, is the initiator of all the evil deeds in our land. The legendary Coeur de Lion is a devil by his own decision, and so are his men, except for only some of them.”

Djaq glared at her uncle, saddened by his speeches. “Are Robin and John demons in your understanding? By virtue of what? Only because they serve King Richard?”

Bassam growled, his hazel eyes blazing with angry flame. “Saffiya, you know what I think about the Crusaders! They are evil, and they destroy everything they touch. They are the army of the so-called righteous men who own the Holy Land and must clean it of us, the filthy, Christ-denying wretches,” he declared sharply, his voice edged with cold contempt.

“You exaggerate, uncle,” Djaq said, struggling to keep her voice neutral.

Bassam shook his head. “No, I don’t. The Crusaders are God-denying people, not the Saracens. God says that none of us can rise or be moved without God and that he doesn’t want us to rob, fornicate, or murder. But the King of England thinks of his power being superior to God’s law.”

“Uncle, don’t forget that Robin saved my life in England. I lived with Robin, John, and others in the forest and helped the poor to survive,” Djaq reminded. “If Robin hadn’t saved me, I would have remained a slave in the mine and would have probably died there.”

“Yeah, I should go,” Little John said in a small voice.

Will nodded at John and his lips compressed. “I think you are better to return to Robin.”

Will lowered his head, his cheeks flushed with rage and mortification, wondering how John managed to keep his composure and calmness. Will didn’t care that Bassam hated King Richard, but he was concerned that the man didn’t accept Djaq’s love for him. He no longer believed that Bassam would ever grow to like and respect him, and he was distressed with the cold, contemptuous attitude towards him. Besides, life in Acre was not what he expected it to be, for there was no wood to do what he liked the most in his life – carpentry; he missed England, Locksley, and Sherwood. 

“John, you may stay as long as you wish,” Djaq evaded.

“No, no, I am sorry. I was going to leave. Robin will be waiting for me,” John said humbly.

Bassam waved his hand dismissively. “You may stay as much as you wish, but not in my presence. I don’t want to be with the men of the barbaric king in the same room.”

Bassam bowed his head slightly and headed to the exit, then closed the door behind him, the wooden latch closing with a click. Not intending to stay any longer, Little John exchanged pleasantries with Will and Djaq; he left Bassam’s house with a heavy heart, wondering how Will would deal with unfriendly man who made no attempt to hide his disdain and hatred even in his harsh, high voice that always seemed to contain a full measure of contempt for the Crusaders and especially for King Richard.

Little John returned to the Crusaders’ camp before the beginning of training. John was supposed to have a sparring match with Carter. The Crusaders formed a tight circle around the sparring couple as John and Carter drew their swords and prepared to fight. Carter usually led John’s training with a sword, while Robin was actively involved in the training of other guards.

Robin always paid much attention to the training of the king’s guards, especially those who just joined the Crusade. John was the newly recruited Crusader and needed Robin’s constant guidance to improve his weaponry skills. After the massacre in the king’s camp, Robin insisted that John devote more hours to the training; the young captain still remembered how he had saved John’s life when the big man had been surrounded and almost crumbled to pieces by the assassins.

Carter lunged at Little John who blocked the blow, then sidestepped and stabbed at Carter. John used classic English broadsword as he refused to fight with scimitar despite apparent advantages of Saracen weapons. They often paused as Carter showed John various blows for both attack and defense. They danced around one another for more than an hour before Carter announced a break.

“John is making a good progress,” Carter remarked as they approached Robin.

Little John sniffled. “I am trying, but I am still not accustomed. The Saracens fight differently.”

“More practice and battles, and you will be alright,” Carter soothed his concerns.

“John, I saw that once you didn’t look out when Carter asked you to stay behind his back in one of the battles,” Much remarked. “You risked being stabbed from the back if Robin didn’t skew the man on time. It is very dangerous.”

“Fine,” John barked, his brows furrowing.

"John,” Robin addressed the big man with a warm smile, “we don’t want to reprimand or offend you. It is just an important advice.”

John smiled. “I know.”

“You must be very attentive,” Robin recommended, his face turning serious. “Move fast and attack. Always look out. Don’t try to defend yourself – just attack and kill without any second thought. These are golden rules of survival in the Holy Land.”

“This I don’t like,” John grumbled.

Although Robin and Much had warned him about the horrors of the Holy Land, he didn’t suspect that the battles would be so bloody. He was shocked that he killed people so easily in battles. Besides, he felt uncomfortable in the extreme climate – dry and hot in the daytime and freezing in the night. Robin changed in the Holy Land, and so did John.

John noticed that Robin had changed since their arrival in Acre. Obviously, on the battlefield, Robin found it difficult to control his undercurrent darkness that floated to the surface, resulting in automatic, brutal killing of every enemy who dared attack Captain Locksley. John knew that he would never forget Robin’s detached, almost indifferent expression and the cold, unusually bright pale blue eyes during the massacre; on that day, John saw what Robin could do in battles and massacres.

The Holy Land changed people. Maybe it was the effect of war and the closeness of death.

“Whatever you like it or not, you have to do this. Otherwise, you will die,” Carter said directly.

“Robin and Much, you spent here so much time. I don’t understand how it is possible,” John said.

“Be quiet, John,” Robin snapped. "I warned you.”

John nodded. “I know. It was my decision.”

Carter gave a shrug. “John, try to stay close to me and follow my instructions. I will help you.”

“I will. Thank you.” John managed a smile.

§§§

Marian waited for Guy’s return from the castle in the study at Locksley Manor. She sat in a high-back chair, her hands folded on her lap. She turned her head and looked at the window. It was dark and raining heavily, and, through the dark curtain of the evening, she could see nothing. All was still, the only sound being the steady rattle of torrential rain upon the window-panes. The fire had already gone out; many candles were extinguished, but some still flickered. Guy was still absent.

She thought a lot of Guy’s relationship with Robin. The very idea in her brain was that the implacable, intense hatred between Robin and Guy was simmering for a long time and that it would boil over into dangerous action. She had to do something to stop that. The evil forces of hatred swirled around them, and rancorous fog blinded them. She feared that their mutual hatred would result in death or deaths.

Since Marian learned that Guy had killed Lord William Loughborough at Vaisey’s order, she became more determined to break her husband from the sheriff’s clutches. Robin was in the Holy Land, and she couldn’t have talked to him tomorrow or in a week, which saddened her. Robin was one of the very few people who could invent an effective plan of Vaisey’s removal from authority. Besides, she was worried that Vaisey was probably planning regicide again, and if it was so, then she didn’t know what to do. Marian craved to make Guy rebel against the sheriff, but he was so resistant to any talk about betraying his master.

Marian was at crossroads. She had to find an opportunity to make a fog disperse. She thought that there should have been a forced alliance between Robin and Guy in their particular circumstances; otherwise the two men would destroy each other. This alliance could have diminished the hatred and contempt they felt for each other. Their alliance could have been useful for England and King Richard, for they could have worked together to deal with the sheriff and stop the Black Knights.

She often brooded over Robin’s role in Guy’s plight and unhappiness. As she remembered Robin’s cowardice and lies when Guy had been so close to be hanged, she felt a delirious contempt for Robin, unusual and sickening, for she had never had those feelings for him before. She understood why Guy had hated Robin so much: he hated Robin instinctively, since childhood, blaming the younger boy for the destruction of his life. She couldn’t deny that Robin was guilty of his noninterference in the fate of Guy and Isabella after their banishment. In those minutes, she almost hated Robin.

Yet, in the space of a few seconds, Marian looked at the situation from Robin’s perspective. Robin had been several years younger than Guy when the fire had killed their parents; he had been less mature and, perhaps, less clever and less reasonable than Guy. She knew, better than all others, how irrational and inconsequential Robin could have been in his actions. Robin had lied that Guy had been guilty of shooting an arrow and injuring a priest; she was disappointed in her former betrothed, finding it difficult to justify his behavior. Most likely, Robin had committed a stupid childish mistake, and he had probably repented later.

Marian didn’t believe that Robin was a consummate liar; otherwise she could say that she didn’t know him entirely. In their tumultuous relationship, he had been bluntly honest with her, so honest and so direct that some things had hurt her deeply and some could even break her heart; to her shame, she couldn’t say the same about herself because she had lied to him so many times. He kept a great deal of emotions in his heart, guarding them from intruders, but that didn’t mean that he was a liar. There was no doubt that Robin also was a man of honor and duty.

Robin’s outrageous tales of his adventures might have seemed unbelievable but they were truthful, even though he was boastful, conspicuous, and exultant in his smugness and pride as a recipient of love and admiration from his audience. He had always been unbelievably foolhardy and adventurous, so that he didn’t need to compose such stories. He didn’t need to cover cowardly actions with fake stories of heroism. In those tales, Robin praised himself, bragging about his talents and people’s love for him. Robin could have been called a braggart and a swaggerer, but not a liar. Not Robin, but Allan was a consummate liar who always invented incredible stories that were well told and worth listening at least for laughter and entertainment.

After his father’s tragic death, Robin had been left without family, only with his people who had depended on him and who had searched for guidance which he couldn’t have given them. He had been supported by Sir Edward of Knighton, his legal guardian, but he still had had to take a great load of responsibility on his fragile shoulders at a young age; he could have been terrified and unconfident of his own abilities. Robin also hated Guy because Guy had started the fire. Marian understood that Robin blamed Guy of his father’s death. Unconsciously believing that he hated Guy, Robin was trying to punish Guy for his father’s death in the fire, Marian mused.

Marian could feel fresh forces churning inside her, strengthened, perhaps, by her sympathy to Guy and antipathy to Robin. Then her feelings for Guy and Robin began to alter, transforming into compassion and sympathy and kindness towards both of them. Guy was a victim of cruel fate; but so was Robin, though to a lesser extent. They blamed one another for the deaths of their parents, pain, and loneliness. The mutual blame and condemnation evolved into a reciprocated burning hatred that vibrated between the two men every time they met in Nottingham; that feeling doomed them both to drink the measure of pain.

Marian felt terribly tired and miserable; the contemplations and musings about the direful circumstances of Guy and Robin’s past drained much strength out of her. She wringed her hands, suffering to the very depths of her heart, reviving the images of the past in her mind. She shook her head in despair. Everything again came back to Robin and Guy’s conflict, and their mutual hatred – the deep-rooted and festering feeling. Robin and Guy were both guilty: Guy carried the deep guilt of accidentally setting fire at Gisborne Manor; Robin was guilty of letting the Gisborne children leave Locksley and of forgetting about them. However, Guy also suffered from self-loathing, a feeling worse than anything itself, while Robin was loved and admired by almost everyone.

Marian was pulled out of the sound of the opening door. “Good evening,” she said as she raised her head and saw Guy enter the chamber.

“Good evening, Marian,” Guy replied. He ungloved his hands, pleased that he was inside the warm manor again. He approached the table and threw there his gloves.

Marian climbed to her feet and lit more candles to illuminate the room. Thornton arrived, poked up the fire in the hearth and threw another log there; he also draped the windows to keep the warmth in the room; then he melted away from the room like a shadow in the dusk.

“Seated close to the fire, Marian,” Guy advised. “It will be warmer in the room now.”

She stalked towards the desk with piles of the parchments, and settled into one of the high-chairs standing there. “It is fine. I am not cold,” she said.

“As you wish.”

Guy sank into a chair in front of Marian. They sat stolidly, their eyes fixed on one another. A silence was absolute; not a sound, not a breath. Any noise from the outside was muffled by heavy lavender draperies at the windows. The mood was somber; Guy’s black leather attire and Marian’s gown – a damask silk gown of midnight color cut in Frankish style – emphasized everyone’s dark demeanor.

He watched the candlelight play over Marian’s alabaster face and neck. The red-gold flames danced on her skin that had a translucent glow, like shimmering pearls. “What news do you have for me?”

Marian blinked once, then again, feeling slight dizziness in her head, her heart thumping. “We have to talk. We cannot ignore what happened any longer.” Her head throbbed like a hive, and she removed her headdress. She tossed her loose curls and ran her fingers through them.

Guy turned his gaze at her. “What do you want?”

“Guy, you cannot live with so much hatred in your heart.”

“Are you again going to talk about Robin Hood?” He exhaled anger warred with exhaustion.

“Exactly right.”

“Please not this, Marian. We should leave this topic entirely and permanently.”

She leaned over the back of her chair, observing him. “No.”

He held her gaze. “Why?”

“Because it is infinitely better for us, Guy,” she clarified. “For us,” she stressed.

Guy scoffed, waving one hand. “It is better for Hood.”

Marian’s fingers closed around her wedding ring, taking an oath to continue without letting her temper explode. “You may sigh with regret and hatred for what could have been if there had been no fire at your parents’ manor, but that will change nothing in your life,” she said rhetorically, unable to prevent her eyes from meeting those of Guy in a silent challenge. “You must accept your past. You must forgive and forget. Only in this case you will be able to look into the future.”

“What do you think you are doing, Marian?” Guy flung at her furiously. “You are mad if you dare tell me that I can forgive and forget!”

“This is precisely what I mean.”

He gave a hollow laugh. “I will never be able to forget so many years of poverty and misery! I will never forgive Robin of Locksley! This is his entire fault! Only his fault!”

Marian measured him with a doubting, gloomy look. “I won’t buy that only Robin is guilty.”

“Who is guilty, then?”

“You and Robin,” she shouted.

“I know my faults.” He let out a sigh of grief. “This guilt is with me every moment of my life.”

“Have you ever thought that Robin might also hate you?”

“Hood… he…” He stumbled with words, dumbstruck. “We hate each other.”

A bubble of her laughter was suddenly like summer wine pouring out of her in spite of the woeful nature of their talk. “Hatred is a poison. Direct your anger at the sheriff instead of Robin Hood.”

“Better kill Hood,” he articulated through gritted teeth, the black veil of rage wrapping his heart.

Marian narrowed her eyes that flashed in anger. She barely suppressed her desire to hit him on the head with a heavy candlestick. “Don’t be a fool, Guy. If you kill Robin, you will achieve nothing – you will only lose. You will only add problems for yourself, for us.” 

Guy laughed. “Nobody will truly suffer from the boaster’s death who pretends to be a noble hero but who is a bloody murderer, a knave, and a thief. The poor will survive and will have a chance to understand what a fanfaron and a hypocrite their hero is.”  

“I asked you not to talk about Robin in this manner,” she bristled angrily. “I don’t like that.”

Embittered laughter rolled from his throat. “But it is the truth.”

“No, you are wrong. You misjudge Robin. You insult him because you hate and envy him.”

“Even if I envy him, I have a right. After all, he has been a thief since childhood as he deprived me of my lands." His voice was petulant.

“Robin Hood might have lied once in childhood, but I am sure that it is a single or one of the few cases,” Marian said evenly. “Robin is a noble, self-sacrificing man, with honor and loyalty in his blood. He is not a consummate liar. He is a swaggerer and a rogue, but not a liar, a knave, and a murderer.”  

Guy growled. “I thought that you see his true nature, but I was mistaken.”

“You haven’t seen him for about twenty years, and you have negative only memories about him. A long time passed since then, and Robin changed for the better.”

“No, he didn’t change.”

“He did,” she insisted. “You don’t know him.”

“I didn’t meet Hood for a long time, but I heard quite a lot about him.”

She was astonished. “Really?”

“Yes.” He nodded. He hated the thought of the past, for there had been nothing close to love and fellowship in his life while Robin had always had everything. Feeling as if the bruise had fallen on his nerves, he struggled to refine his spirits. After a moment’s pause, he went on. “I wasn’t specifically interested in his life, but when I heard his name, I always remembered what people spoke of him. You know that I spent many years in the continental territories of the Angevin Empire, but even there many things were spoken about Robin of Locksley.”

Marian was astonished. “How could you know that?”

“I met many of King Richard’s knights when I was younger.”

She arched a brow. “And how is that related to Robin?”

“They always talked about Sir Robin of Locksley, Richard Plantagenet’s young favorite. Young Hood was well-known on the continent thanks to his unparalleled archery skills he displayed on the training under the leadership of Richard’s loyal knight – Lord Walter Sheridan.” Guy had a sordid taste in his mouth when he remembered the praises directed at Robin. “They also adored his sword fighting style.”

“I am not amazed, Guy. Robin was a champion of many archery tournaments in England and on the continent, too. And it is not a secret that Robin had his knighthood training in Aquitaine.”

“Those knights were astonished that Robin Hood had such a high royal favor at such a young age. The point is that Hood couldn’t have earned his favor at that young age.”

“And what, Guy?”

“I have heard that Prince Richard held the braggart in the highest favor nearly since their first meeting at the court. Those knights also discussed that Richard himself knighted Hood; he also gave him swordplay lessons.”

“It is not a new story for me.” She sighed. “But I feel that you have your own reasons to tell me that.”

“Yes, I have.”

“And what is your idea?”

“Marian, I mean that Hood has always been a spoiled royal favorite. Do you know what it means?”

"I don’t know," she said very placably.

“In true sense, Marian, _a royal favorite is a worthless man! Hood is worthless!_ Hood has never achieved anything good by himself,” Guy elaborated. “Hood has always been loved, adored, spoiled, and pampered, even if he has never deserved that. He loves the king and England and glory more than everything else. He is a foolish and arrogant bastard with a vain and empty heart. There is nothing in him, absolutely nothing, apart from his handsome looks and devastating charm.”

She shot him an annoyed look. “Guy, are you trying to make me disappointed in Robin?”

“I am trying to open your eyes, which will let you look at him as he is,” he explained.

“Not as he is in reality, but through your eyes, ignoring that you are biased.”

“You are blind,” he snarled.

“No, Guy, you talking nonsense! You hate Robin Hood, Robin hates you, and it is destroying both of you. You are blinded by your mutual hatred. This hatred doesn’t let you see goodness, humanity, and other qualities in one another,” she stated as if she were lecturing a child. “The deadliest hatred will bring down both of you. It will destroy you.”

“I told you the whole story, Marian. You know how great Hood’s guilt is! He is responsible for the downfall of the Gisborne family,” he confronted.

She was irritated. “And you are guilty of Sir Malcolm’s death.”

He cast a fulminating glance at her. “Don’t you dare say this name. This man is a villain.”

“I have to bring forth what sticks out a mile,” she purred. Then she raised her voice, urging it with sharpness. “Robin is guilty, and so are you.”

“Yes, of course.” Guy scoffed. “Your heroic lover is not guilty. He is a saint.”

Marian tried to stifle a cry of outrage that gathered in her throat, but she failed. The aching pain in her heart started to stir deep inside her core and spread through her blood like wildfire. She burned, wanting more of the unthinkable passion and lust for Guy while at the same time grieving the loss of Robin’s love and affection. Instinctively, she made a whimpering sound, mourning her lost innocence with Robin and missing him, as well as feeling guilty of tormenting Guy and burning for him.

“Guy, don’t say this! Stop being so jealous!” Marian fumed, losing patience, in a voice fraught with panic. “I told you the truth. Robin and I were lovers; it happened only once. We are no longer together, and I haven’t seen him and heard from him for so long.” Her sapphire blue eyes darkened with rage. “Stop bringing this topic into every conversation! It won’t make us happier!” She bent her head, as if she had been overcome by total prostration.

“I cannot stop!”

“For the love of Heaven, please stop,” she begged.

He heard and bristled angrily. “But you were with him,” he said defiantly.

“I am sorry,” she whispered.

“You must be.”   

“And I am truly sorry,” she repeated.

Guy was silent for a long moment, but the stiffening of his shoulders showed that he had heard her. “I want to believe you, but it is so difficult to forget that you and Hood were together. He is my mortal enemy, and I hate that he was with you – he of all men! I should throttle you for your infidelity with Hood and for your betrayals, but I cannot imagine that I can cause any harm to you.”

Marian flashed a bleak smile. “Guy, I am not afraid of you. I know that you wish me no harm.”

Blind feeling of rage got the mastery of Guy’s tongue, and he spat, “Marian, don't flatter yourself that my seeming tolerance of your betrayals means that everything has been forgiven and forgotten. I have a right to say that my forgiveness is worth the highest price I choose to ask, and I still have no clue as to what can pacify me a little bit.” His expression evolved into the one of harshness. “When I want to move on, I remember that Hood was your lover. This braggart Hood always stands between us.”

“You have the propensity to say strange things about Robin,” she commented crossly.

“And you going to defend him again?” he flung at her. “I told you my life story, and you are still defending him.”

“I am defending neither Robin nor you. I want you to be objective to him and yourself.”

“And are you objective to him? What is that? Hood humiliated you. You were betrothed to Hood, but this damned fool chose glory over you,” Guy said half spitefully, half angrily. “And yet, you had been in his bed before he betrayed your love for him and deserted you. Isn’t that humiliation for you?”

Marian stiffened in shock, raising her hand to her mouth; she couldn’t tell him that there had been nothing physical between Robin and her before the Holy Land; at least not today and not in the nearest future. She sighed in frustration. “You are not entirely right. Robin went to the Holy Land not only because he wanted glory. He felt that his duty to the king and England was more important, and there was no way he could have ignored his duty.”

Guy’s face hardened, his lips tightened. “Duty to the king? And what about the duty to the people and to his betrothed?” He scoffed. “Only England and the king matter in Hood’s narrow world?”

“I have asked myself the same question many times,” Marian confessed.

He smiled ironically. “And did you get an answer?”

“I think Robin is a man of duty, and his duty to England and the king will always prevail; they are more important than his private interests,” Marian declared, a touch of sadness creeping into her tone.

“Hood didn’t love you as much as he claimed, Marian,” Guy said with conviction.

“I am sure that Robin loved me, but his sense of duty overweighed his desire to marry me. He wouldn’t have forgiven himself if he hadn’t gone to war, and I kind of understand him.”

Guy’s eyes glittered contemptuously. “If I had been in Hood’s shoes, I would have never joined the stupid Crusade! Hood didn’t treasure what he had, and it is fair that he lost everything.”

Marian dragged a deep breath, anger stirring in her heart. “I respect Robin’s convictions, but I agree that he was selfish as he didn’t consider the impact of his decision on his people, his betrothed, and what I could have suffered.” A sudden rush of childish anger made her reply in words full of scorn.

“Hood must have thought of your feelings and only then about the country and the king. If I had been in his shoes, I wouldn’t have acted in this fashion,” he assured.

“I would like to think so.” Her voice lacked conviction.

In the past months, Marian was trying to understand whether she had been right in her conclusion that Robin would always place his loyalty to the king and England above everything else. For whatever reason, she felt that she hadn’t understood many things in Robin’s life, including some of his decisions to go to war. She used to think that she knew Robin well enough as they had grown up together, but now she began to doubt that. She admitted to herself, defiantly and bitterly, that some features of Robin’s character were as mysterious as Guy’s. Robin wore a cheeky mask of a rogue to hide his insecurities and worries, whereas Guy preferred to avoid talking about his problems and his life, his natural outward calmness preserving his inner thoughts in safety.

“Ah, Hood positions himself a selfless and self-sacrificing hero, doesn’t he?” Guy’s lips lengthened in a sarcastic sneer. “Well, the hero turns out to be not as selfless as he seems at first glance.”

“Stop bashing Robin,” Marian said strictly after a short pause. “Robin has his faults, and I don’t think that he is a perfect man. But you also have many faults. In fact, there is more similarity between you and Robin Hood than you can imagine and accept. Robin could have been like you and you could have been like him if you made different choices.”

“You are wrong,” Guy replied briskly. “If I had been granted a chance to swap my places with Hood in childhood and become a pampered nobleman instead of an exiled and dispossessed son of the leper, I would have acted differently – my life would have been different.”

“Really? I am not so sure.” She raised one eyebrow and made a helpless gesture.

“Hood loves the king most of all. He didn’t love you as much as he assured you.” Guy gazed away.

Marian didn’t know whether laugh or cry at the memory of Robin praising King Richard and proclaiming his unconditional loyalty to him. “Robin has been close to King Richard since his early youth when they met in Aquitaine; maybe it made him the king’s man and a man of duty.” She smiled as a thought came to her mind. “By the way, Prince Richard used to be Robin’s guardian for some time.”

Guy blinked in amazement. “Prince Richard was Hood’s guardian?”

“Yes. If my memory serves me well, Robin’s was Richard’s ward for three years.”

“Tell me more about that, Marian.”

“Why are you interested?”

"A mere curiosity. Nothing else." Guy lied because he had a reason to ask. The thought that Hood could be the Queen Mother's golden boy struck him, but it seemed impossible.

“When Sir Malcolm of Locksley died, my father became Robin’s legal guardian and acted in this role until Robin Hood turned fifteen years old. At that age, Robin joined Richard’s knights in Aquitaine, and since then Prince Richard assumed the legal responsibilities of his guardian, although my father continued managing Robin’s estates. When Robin turned eighteen, he no longer needed a guardian. Besides, Robin even lived in Aquitaine for a year or so, and my father and I even visited him there.”

“How interesting,” Guy remarked wonderingly. Robin Hood couldn’t be the queen’s bastard. He remembered Robin’s birthday when Lady Elizabeth of Locksley had died in childbirth and the child had survived. No, Hood wasn’t the man Prince John was looking for, he mused; but he was still interested.

She shrugged. “I know nothing about this peculiar arrangement. My father handled Robin’s deals, including all the contacts with Prince Richard.”

“Of course, Sir Edward didn’t tell you anything. You were a young girl at that time.”

Marian didn’t wish to talk about a mere nothing. She wanted only to knock sense into Guy’s head. “Guy, you must stop hating Robin Hood. You must let your anger go instead of passing it on to others and everything you do. Robin did wrong by you, but you also wronged him,” she admonished, her eyes, stormy and intense, searching a hint of comprehension in his orbs. She didn’t dare say anything about jealousy, for it would have been equivalent to testing the thin ice.

Yet, Guy met her gaze with a hard and irritated look. He was chafing at her suggestion. “There is nothing that can free Hood and me from the bad blood that shackles us to each other.”

“Guy, you are making the same mistake Robin often does. You don’t look at the things from the standpoint of another person. If you do this, you will discover that those whom you hate also suffer and are tormented. And if you both let hatred and anger go, you will be free.”

Guy sighed with distress. “It might be painful to hate, but I would not have it otherwise.”

"You assume incorrectly.”

He rose and, bowing slightly, raised her hand to his lips. The hardness of his face frightened her suddenly. “Everything in this world must be paid for. Robin Hood must also pay for what he did to me.”

Marian clenched and unclenched her fists. She hated that Guy was again talking about Robin’s faults, not looking at himself. Her mind floated to the sheriff, whom she blamed for Guy’s troubles. She suddenly realized that her most important task was to make Guy break from Vaisey and then deal with his conflict with Robin. She drew a deep breath and prepared to talk about the demon of Nottingham. He was intent on leaving, but she wouldn’t let him go before getting some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I portray Robin as a human being, not only as a hero, and I like showing his weaknesses. I have read a lot about Robin Hood from the BBC series being a shallow person, an immature and spoiled brat. I don't deny that he is an arrogant man, and smugness is in his blood; I disagree that Robin is a shallow man. While I admit that Robin may be rather annoying and immature, it is not always the case. It is really difficult to understand and analyze Robin's true character because Robin wears a mask very skillfully as he prefers to guard his true emotions and keep them to himself.
> 
> Robin's real spiritual world is hidden behind his mask of arrogance and nonchalance; he covers all his fears and insecurities with his cheeky grin. He might give an impression of a carefree and arrogant rogue, going through his life like a light breeze, but this impression is wrong. Robin has a lot of regrets and burdens, but he never shares them with others; he never complains and carries his burdens alone, preferring to appear invincible in the eyes of his friends and before the world, as if nothing can hurt him. In sober fact, Robin is a clever and quite contemplative man when he talks about serious things and shows his naked soul, but he does that very rarely, but at times he does this and we can still find some examples on the show. Robin is very reserved by nature, perhaps more reserved than Guy.
> 
> In this chapter, we see Robin's true personality when he collapses in Much's arms and sobs like a child after the massacre. I believe that something like this could have happened in reality. This scene also shows how vulnerable Robin can be and how deeply, very deeply, with all his heart, he can feel once he lets his guard down. On the show, there were some episodes when Robin was very emotionally vulnerable, but I would have liked to have more of such moments.  
> Most importantly, Robin is now betrothed to Lady Melisende Plantagenet. Yet, it doesn't mean that he has already gotten over Marian: she is always on his mind and he is always on hers.
> 
> I think the king's blood cousin is exactly whom Robin needs. She is able to understand his utter and unconditional loyalty to the king and England, although I have to forewarn you that in this long epic Robin will change dramatically as the plot develops. In the end, he will be a disillusioned man: he will realize that many of his dreams will never come true. His disillusionment will be a sad and painful experience for him.
> 
> The next two chapters are about the events in Nottingham. Marian and Guy will have to face a surprise soon. Soon, in several chapters, Vaisey and his party will depart to the Holy Land. There will be very many shocking events in the Holy Land in this story/novel.


	14. Surprises in Nottingham

**Chapter 14**

**Surprises in Nottingham**

There was a long, uncomfortable silence between Marian and Guy as they stared at each other with somber expressions on their faces. It was a simmering, grim, resentful silence, one that would take little effort on either of their parts to explode into something that neither one of them was willing to deal with.

Marian gave Guy a long, attentive look. “Guy, there are more important things than your ill-fated and ridiculous hatred for Robin,” she broke the silence, her voice steady and confident.

Guy raised a quizzical eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“The sheriff is our main problem. He is a real threat to us,” Marian stated directly. “Vaisey is becoming more and more dangerous. Maybe he is going mad. He must be dealt with, and that must be done urgently. He already tried to kill King Richard and commanded you to kill the nobles who were loyal to the king. What will happen next? What madness will come into his head?”

“Marian, you are again doing the same as a week ago.”

“When this madman decides to kill someone else, you will be commanded to do that.”

Guy stiffened. His visage was tinged with rising ire, and he struggled to keep his emotions at bay. “Marian, we have been through the same discussion some time ago.” His chest heaved, and he exhaled sharply. “I am not fond of what the sheriff orders me to do, but there must be another way out. Even if we want to overthrow Vaisey, we must wait.”

“I want you to imagine something,” Marian continued in a metallic voice. She stilled for a moment, looking into his eyes. “What if Vaisey orders you to kill me? Will you obediently carry out a command?”

He shook his head violently. “He will never order me that, and I will never do that! You are talking nonsense!” He sounded so confident. “I promise that I will protect you.”

Her anger spiked a notch then, making her see all red. Her eyes narrowed. “Good if you want to protect me,” she said tartly. “But then you should act accordingly. If you and I make up a plan to get rid of Vaisey in the way that Nottingham is not razed to the ground by Prince John’s troops, I will be safe; many other people will be safe, too.”

Guy sent her a look of despair. He grimaced and shrugged his broad shoulders. “We cannot do that. For now, we have to live with the sheriff. If we are very careful with Vaisey and don’t provoke him, then I will have power and we will be happy. This is our only chance for survival, my love.”

She shook her head in denial. “No, no. If we do nothing, Vaisey will kill more people.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, what are you offering? Do you have any ideas?”

She smiled. “We need to have an alliance with Robin. We should try to contact him as he is close to King Richard and loathes the sheriff,” she said in a neutral, controlled voice. “I can try to send a message to Robin through some of his old war comrades whose names I know. I can ask him to devise an effective plan to get rid of the sheriff, protecting innocent civilians.”

A horn-mad Guy bawled out, "Are you out of your mind? I will never work with Hood!” His teeth clenched together; his eyes darkened and were turbulent with despair and fury. “I hate Hood! Nothing and nobody will make me cooperate with him! I will never bow to this thief and ask him for help!”

Marian tried to bridle her anger and keep her emotions in check. “Working with Robin is the best option to destroy the sheriff and free you from him. I know that you loathe the sheriff, and you know that I hate him, and Robin hates the sheriff, too. Together we will be stronger, and we will stop the madman. We can contact Robin in the Holy Land, and I am sure that he will help us.”

“Forget about that,” he ordered.

She shook her head in displeasure. “You and Robin Hood are two fools,” she said, her mouth tight. “You are like two children who hate one another instead of making an attempt to leave the past behind and work together for the greater good – for England and the people.”

He looked as if she had insulted him. “I don’t care about England and the king! I am not a fool and I am not going to save everyone! I am not Robin Hood!”

As Guy rebuffed her attempts at talk sense into him, her temper blew up. “You should care for England at least a little because it is the right thing to do, Guy! England is your country! Vaisey is a high traitor! He is dangerous for the king, you, and everyone! He has corrupted you and destroyed your peace! He destroys everything he touches!”

“I am not very fond of the sheriff. Vaisey brought much misery to my life.” He glanced in the flames of the candles. “I won’t be entirely unhappy if Vaisey is deposed, although I will lose my chance to gain power. But so far I see no reason to gamble and risk everything, even our lives, by arranging the sheriff's downfall when the outcome is unpredictable. I can handle Vaisey and protect us.”

“One day you won’t be able to handle the sheriff,” she voiced her concerns. “If he no longer needs you or if you disappoint him, he will just kill you and then kill me.”

”Vaisey needs me, and he will do nothing to cause us any harm. He fulfilled his old promise to me – he gave me Hood’s former lands. I assure you that he will do nothing to hurt you – I will protect you.”

“So you are not going to work against the sheriff, are you?”

“We cannot do that right now. And there is no sense in that.”

”Very well,” Marian said coldly, her mouth set in a grim line. “I have never killed a man in cold blood before, but I suppose there is always the first time for everything,” she bit out half angrily, half fearfully. “One day I will kill Vaisey if you don’t want to help yourself, me, and many other people.” Her eyes coruscated with hatred. “And it won’t be a murder – it will be justice. This madman deserves to die.”

“You cannot be serious, Marian.”

“I am very serious,” she asserted. “I appreciate what you do to protect me, Guy, but I am not happy with that. I hate Vaisey for what he is doing to you, and for what he did to my father, Robin, and many other innocents.” She clenched her teeth. “I often want the sheriff dead.”

“For heaven’s sake, Marian! You must stay out of this! If you try to kill the sheriff and fail, you will be captured and we can both die. If you don’t fail and he is dead, the town will be destroyed and everyone will die.” He snorted. “Stay out of this mess!” he repeated through gritted teeth.

Marian said authoritatively, “Listen to me, Guy. So far I am not going to kill Vaisey, for I still hope that you will make a move against this beast. I know that you loathe Vaisey in the depths of your heart, and I beseech you, Guy, to reconsider your decision and ally yourself with Robin against the sheriff. If it is necessary, I am ready to beg Robin on my knees to overlook his hatred he feels for you and cooperates with you on behalf of England, King Richard, and everyone.”

As she finished her long tirade, a scarlet mist exploded in front of Guy’s eyes. Guy approached Marian, and his hands caught her upper arms in an iron grip, and he gave her an ungentle shake.

“You little fool!” Guy hissed between clenched teeth, his expression sheer fury. “I am doing my best to protect you and give you everything you deserve as my wife! I am trying to overlook the fact that you slept with Hood! I am listening to your annoying speeches about your damned lover! I am protecting you against the sheriff! And don’t you dare ask me to betray the only man who helped me survive when everyone turned their backs to me!”

Guy pressed Marian to himself, looking at her with such burning anger in his stormy eyes that she shuddered, a fresh wave of responsive anger flooding through her. Their throats tight, their breathing constricted, they froze in an angry embrace, both feeling fury mingled with anxiety building up inside of them, a sense of impending danger climbing through their flesh.

She pushed him away and took a few steps back. Her temper spiraled higher once more, and, putting her hands on her hips, she glared at him like a preacher at the crowd. “I have apologized for all my lies, while you didn’t apologize to me! I am fed up that you always blame Robin for everything! I am sick of your inclination not to resist the sheriff! Stop being naïve and blind!”

Guy grabbed her wrists to prevent her from backing away. “You never lived like me! You don’t know what it is to live with horrendous pain in your heart!” he accused, glaring at her fiercely. “You can listen to my story and sympathize with me, but you will never be able to feel the pain I have been feeling every day of my life. You cannot imagine what pain you can feel knowing that you murdered your own parents and let down your only sister! You don’t know what abject poverty is! You don’t know what I had to live through in order to achieve what I have now! I will never stoop so low as to work with Hood who is the reason for all my misery and problems!”

“Guy, look at yourself! Stop blaming others for the pain you feel! You are a grown-up man! You have your own free will! You made your own choices!” she screamed in indignation. “You decided to side with Vaisey, and it is not Robin’s fault that you made this choice.”

Marian caught him by surprise, jerking her hand out of his, but he grabbed her tighter. She fought free of his hold and pushed at his shoulders, but he didn’t let her go. Some of his icy despair invaded her veins, and anger inundated her body; she suddenly found herself more furious than Guy. She wrenched out her hand from his grip, she took a step back and smacked him hard across his cheek. Appalled and shocked, they stared at each other, neither of them moving. It was a dicey moment, but as quickly as it had come, their anger fled.

“I suppose I deserved that,” Guy said flatly, rubbing his reddening cheek.

“I am sorry,” she said numbly.

Guy hanged his head in shame. “I am sorry, too. I… overreacted. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”

“Leave it be,” she said quietly.

“I cannot forget. We quarreled because of Robin Hood,” Guy hissed between clenched teeth. “Hood is the reason of so many problems in my life. This thief makes dirty everything he touches.”

Suddenly, the door was pulled open, and Thornton appeared at the doorway of the study, bowing to them. Marian and Guy stared at the old servant with sharp gazes, puzzled and displeased. By chance, Thornton had overheard a part of their conversation about Robin, and he could no longer tolerate the slandering of Robin’s good name. Nothing had the power to erase the angry frown from his brow and the acerbated glare from his wrinkled face.

Marian let out a cry of dissatisfaction. “Thornton, what are you doing here? Go to sleep! Please don’t disturb us.” She was pleased that the old servant didn’t see their physical interactions, even if he most likely heard their heated argument.

“Go away,” Guy ordered. “We will call you if we need you.”

Thornton bowed. “I am sorry, my lord and my lady, but I cannot leave.”

“What do you want?” Guy grumbled.

The servant glared at Guy. “Sir Guy, I beg your pardon, but I overheard a part of your long conversation with Lady Marian. I heard everything you said about Master Robin even before you raised your tone.”

Guy interrupted him. “Are you kidding me?”

Thornton was angry, his self-control slinking off. “I can no longer tolerate when you slander the name of one of the noblest and the most honest people in Christendom.”

Guy let loose a steady stream of curses. “What right do you have to eavesdrop, you old fool?”

Marian blushed. “Thornton, I think you should leave.”

“You say many despicable and untruthful things about Master Robin.” Thornton’s gaze darted between Marian and Guy. “I assure you that the people of Locksley and all others would be insulted if they heard at least some of your insults towards Master Robin.”

“Thornton, please get out. Please leave,” Marian said softly, aiming to ease the tension.

“Robin Hood is not your master! I am the Lord of Locksley!” Guy shrilled, his anger rising. “You will respect my wife and me! I will teach you a lesson!”

“No! I won’t leave this room!” Thornton objected, scowling at Guy. “Robin of Locksley is my only master and will always be my master. You are only Sir Guy!”

Momentary, Guy jumped to his feet and strode towards Thornton. He grabbed the shoulders of the old, grizzled servant and shook him violently. Guy yelled out curses in English and Norman-French. Feeling no stirrings of guilt, he shook Thornton over and over again, but the servant still stood riveted, plucking away from him.

“You can throw me out of the manor or kill me, but I will tell you what I want,” Thornton declared.

Guy’s temper exploded. “You will shut up even if I have to slice your stomach here!”

Horrified, Marian rushed to them. “Guy, please stop! Don’t hurt him!”

“No, Marian, I am not done with him,” Guy returned, his gaze murderous.

“Guy, please! He is an old man! Stop it!” Marian expostulated.

But Guy didn’t react, and Thornton wasn’t going to leave. Guy slapped Thornton hard across his cheek, but the servant didn’t flinch. Marian rushed to Guy and dragged him away from Thornton; then she stood between them, trying to calm down the fuming men.

“You know nothing about Master Robin,” Thornton affirmed, refusing to surrender and leave despite being physically abused by the tall knight.

“I know about this thief everything,” Guy spat. “Hell’s bones, I will give you what you deserve!”

Thornton shook his head. “You have no idea how much Master Robin suffered! His life was in grave danger for quite a long time after the fire at the Gisborne Manor. You have no clue what he went through!”

“Be civil,” Marian implored, standing at his side.

“Alright. Only for you,” Guy told her, smiling faintly at her. Having released Thornton, Guy stared at the man. He was amused by Thornton’s statement. “What were you mumbling, you old goat?”

Thornton took a careful note of the violence contained within the smoldering depths of Guy’s steel blue eyes, retreating back, to a nearby wall. “ _Bailiff Longthorn wanted Master Robin dead and tried to kill him at least four times._ Death was hanging over young boy day and night.”

A heavy silence reigned in the chamber. Guy and Marian looked at Thornton with confused expressions, as if they were having a feeling of mystery and certain vision. They didn’t expect that there had been such strange circumstances in Robin of Locksley’s life. Guy was especially puzzled, for he had never expected that the bailiff had wished Robin’s death.

Guy’s eyes focused on the servant, his black brow arched in question. “Why did Bailiff Longthorn need to kill Hood? Did he plan to take the Locksley lands for himself after Robin’s death, like he planned to kill me and then confiscate my father’s property?”

Marian surveyed the old man’s view, paying attention to all the details. Thornton clasped his hands on his stomach, twitching his fingers; he was pale and looked anxious. She didn’t like the servant’s behavior – it was unusual and nervous.

Thornton shook his head in confirmation, biting his lips at the realization that he crossed the line; he had to be very careful in order not to say more than he could. “Maybe Longthorn intended to take the Locksley estates for himself; maybe not. But the bailiff made several attempts on Master Robin’s life.”

 “What happened?” Guy asked Thornton in a commanding tone, as if he were interrogating someone.

“In several months after the fire, Master Robin almost drowned in the pond,” Thornton continued the sad tale. “We got him out of the water unconscious and drenched to the bone. The criminals escaped as the villagers failed to capture them. Poor thing, Master Robin caught a cold and contracted a high fever. The physician thought that he would die but he was too stubborn to die so young, and he recovered in a month.”

“And when did three other cases take place?” Guy shot back.

“The second attempt on Master Robin’s life occurred in six months after the fire,” Thornton began, his voice tight. “Master Robin was ambushed, kidnapped, and held captive for a day in Sherwood. The villagers spent many hours searching for the boy. We discovered a trace on the way to the so-called bewitched woods. At last, he was found surrounded by the bandits as they expected the others to collect him for the bailiff. There was a fierce fight, and many people died.” He crossed himself. “Master Robin was severely beaten, but not to death. He had many broken bones, but survived.”

“Go on,” Guy urged, intrigued.

“Next time, Master Robin was abused in his own bedroom. It was very late, likely early morning. The boy was brutally beaten, and thrown out of the window, as if they had wanted him to break his neck from the fall. When we found him in the morning, he was unconscious and then spent in that state for a day. It happened in a year and a half after the fire,” the servant reported.

“I have never known about that. Is there anything else?” Marian said innocently.

Thornton was painfully aware that nothing he could say would please Guy. His only purpose was to make Guy realize that Robin’s life had been very far from blissful paradise after the banishment of the Gisbornes. Certainly, he was determined to keep the darkest family secrets from everyone. “Once Master Robin was less than half a step from a grave,” Thornton confided in them, his voice grim. “Master Robin was kidnapped and held prisoner in one of the castles in northern counties. He spent in captivity for about three months. Eventually, the boy was saved and forcefully released. Then he was delivered to Locksley, and he looked so sick…” He lapsed into silence.

“Oh my God! What did they do to him?" Marian’s lips turned bloodless.

Thornton swallowed a sob. “Master Robin looked as though he had been trampled by a thousand horses,” he said, feeling his heart constrict in pain. “He was so lean. He couldn’t stand on his feet and move a hand. He was extremely starved. Given his lithe complexion, especially in the early youth, the picture was heartbreaking.” He choked on the lump in his throat, swallowed and went on. “Additionally, the boy was violently abused. There were so many cuts and welts on his body, so many wounds! He also had a large wound on the nape of his head. He was so weak that he could hardly utter a word.” He paused, his breath caught on a sob. “He was locked in a damp and dirty dungeon for so long; he was feverish due to infection from his injuries.”

“Oh,” Marian half sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

Largely out-of-character for him, Guy didn’t know what to say about Hood. At that moment, he wasn’t ready to give an epigrammatic remark about Robin or sneer filthily. “When did that happen?” he compelled himself to say, his eyes cold and empty.

“This villainy was organized around two years after Sir Malcolm’s death,” Thornton said flatly. “I have never seen any child in a condition worse and more dangerous than Master Robin’s on the day when he was brought back to Locksley. He could die from fever, starvation, blood loss, a hard blow on his head, or any other complication. The doctor predicted that Master Robin would die, but he clung to life and pulled through. The recovery was slow and took around five months.”

Marian’s expression was horrified. “Only beasts can treat children inhumanly!” She paused, thinking. “Once, my father told me something about the abduction of a very young lord from Nottinghamshire. The lord’s name was kept confidential, but much gossip was floating around the shire. Father always was careful about this special case.” She turned to Thornton. “The young lord was Robin?”

The old servant gave a nod. “Yes, Lady Marian. We preferred not to make this case public. It was necessary. Master Robin doesn’t like to remember about that.”

“Well, Hood got the mischief he likes so much,” Guy sneered, eyes blazing defiantly. He was pleased that Hood’s years were not as good as he had expected. It was better that they both had suffered. “Hood needed to pay for his actions on the day of the fire.”

“Guy!” Marian assaulted.

Guy ignored her and gazed at Thornton, his eyes glittering with danger. “Now, old man, tell us why you think that Bailiff Longthorn was behind all these troubles with young Locksley.”

Thornton was consumed by the terrible fear. He got himself into dangerous waters. “Master Robin’s long captivity was the last attempt on his life. Back in Locksley, the boy was tended by the physician, while Bailiff Longthorn drew his last breath and died. Longthorn admitted his guilt before his death.”

“Thornton, who killed the bailiff?” Guy asked. “The man had no conscience where capture, or murder, or rape was concerned. Why couldn’t he be killed before?”

Summoning all the self-possession he could muster, Thornton forced himself not to shake like a leaf in the wind as he braced himself to lie. “They were some lords, Sir Malcolm’s old friends,” he said flatly. “They were worried about Master Robin, and they themselves organized a search party as the corrupted sheriff supported the bailiff. Until Longthorn was dead, there was no chance that the sheriff didn’t want to help find Master Robin.” He began regretting that he had started this conversation.

“And who brought Robin back to Locksley?” Marian’s heart thundered in her chest.

“One of those lords,” the servant answered.

Guy felt strange. There was a glimmer of suspicion in the back of his brain that the old servant knew more than he had said. “Definitely, the bailiff couldn’t have been killed before the sheriff was ousted,” he agreed. “Marian, Sir Edward was not the sheriff then, was he?”

“Father was appointed Sheriff of Nottingham only when I was nine years old, in more than five years after the fire,” Marian said, somewhat distantly. “I don’t know who the previous sheriff was. I was too young. I heard the story about the abduction of a young lord from my father; I actually learned about that because one of the servants at Knighton gossiped, guessing who a lord could be.”

“Of course, Marian.” Guy nodded.

“Father’s mood was very gloomy at that time,” Marian added in a tense voice.

Guy fell into thoughtfulness again and was silent for a moment. “Definitely, Sir Edward of Knighton knew something. After all, he was Malcolm of Locksley’s old friend and Hood’s legal guardian,” he speculated as he tapped his chin. He tried hard to smile and laugh at Robin’s troubles, but he couldn’t.

Marian sighed. “I remember that Robin disappeared from Locksley, but father told me that he had gone to his estates in Huntingdon for some time. I had no clue what truly happened there.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “One day, I met Much, and he complained that Robin had left without taking him to Huntingdon. He feared that Robin no longer needed him and would fire him.” Her face turned very serious. “But then Much disappeared, too, and I didn’t see them for many months. I asked my father, and he answered that Robin had summoned Much to Huntingdon.”

“It means that Robin Hood was transported from Locksley to Huntingdon after he had been delivered to Locksley. Apparently, it was done to avoid unwanted rumors. His loyal manservant departed to Huntingdon to take care of his sick master,” Guy mused aloud, his gaze pensive. “Marian, did your father go away somewhere while Hood was in Huntingdon? Do you remember that?”

She frowned, her brain working hard. Her memory was impregnated with ascertained facts, and she hurried to speak. “Robin was absent for around eight or nine months in total, and I… didn’t know why he lived in Huntingdon for so long.” Her eyes met Guy’s. “Several times, my father went away for two or three weeks in Huntingdon. He explained that he had to take care of Robin and manage his estates.”

“Something else?” Guy pressed.

“No. I was just a small girl.” She made a helpless gesture, casting an apologetic glance at Guy. “I am amazed that I remember these facts.”

Bridget entered the study and moved towards the table, carrying a silver tray with some meal. She was one of the oldest servants, approximately of the same age as Thornton was. She had also heard some of their chat. The day was a long sequence of many unfortunate events.

“My lady and my lord, some delicacies as you requested.” Bridget bowed deeply as she placed the tray on the desk. “If you need anything else, please let me know.”

“Thank you, Bridget,” Marian said with a smile.

“Thank you,” Guy snarled.

“I am so curious who saved Robin’s life and then killed Bailiff Longthorn,” Marian said with gathering excitement. “The knight-savior of Robin Hood! What a mystery!”

“I would be interesting to learn who saved Hood,” Guy speculated.

“Maybe my father knew,” Marian speculated. “Well, I cannot ask him now.”

“I am sure that Sir Edward knew everything,” Guy opined. “He simply kept that secret.”

 “Oh, I remember that day very well. Three hooded knights – one young, and the other two much older – arrived in Locksley with our young master... erm… former master. The knights were heavily armored as if they were warriors,” Bridget informed.

His head high, Guy directed his eyes at Bridget and stared at her for a moment with a mixture of outrage and astonishment that she had the impertinence to venture an opinion. “What else do you know?" he demanded, tearing his gaze from the woman and giving Thornton a morbid glare.

Thornton shuddered. “I remember only how Master Robin looked like after he was released.”

“Master… Hood was so sick and couldn’t walk. The youngest of the hooded knights barked commands in Norman-French to two other men. The same knight took Robin Hood from the cart and carried him upstairs to the bedroom,” Bridget prattled.

Thornton silently cursed Bridget and her loosening tongue. He paled and looked like a ghost of a ghost, all his hopes to escape from the trap he had dragged himself into crumbling like a house of cards. Feeling his knees tremble, he leaned back to the wall to support his body.

From the corner of his eye, the hooded man of an average height watched the exchange. He stood in the semi-dark corridor, pressing his body to the wall; he was not seen by the four people in the study. His pale blue eyes remained fixed stonily on Gisborne's face, scrutinizing the enemy’s every feature. He ran his eyes across the room and regarded Marian with suspicion; then his gaze lingered at Thornton and Bridget, and his face hardened.

The hooded man was Sir Malcolm Fitzooth of Locksley, the presumably deceased Lord of Locksley and Earl of Huntingdon, his body supposedly burned in the fire to ashes. He tossed his head, and his hood partially revealed his wrinkled and scarred face. He shook his head again, and several long curls, a mixture of grizzled hair and some sandy-colored locks, fell on his forehead and temples. He pulled those strands of hair behind his ears. The obnoxious grimace replaced the twist of boredom at the corners of his mouth.

Malcolm seethed with anger as Thornton, the only man whom he had always trusted to keep and guard their old mystery, had betrayed him, the pain like a sword blow to his heart. It was vital for Robin’s life and his future to bury the secret in the dark depths of the past. Thornton was quiet now, but he had already said so much without Bridget, too much, Malcolm thought.

Malcolm cursed. If the Locksley secret were and revealed to the world, the truth might have harmed Robin physically and emotionally. The secret was also the matter of utmost political importance: if the mystery was unveiled, the consequences might have destroyed fragile stability and peace in the Angevin Empire. Besides, the reputation of the great people, whom Malcolm held in the highest esteem and to whom he was endlessly obliged to, would have been tarnished.

“How did he look like? Why was he hooded?” Marian questioned, bemused.

Bridget could not help but smile. She remembered the young knight-savior of her young master very well. He had a majestic physical complexion; his body awoke sensual desire in her, for she didn’t need to see his face under the hood to realize that he was very handsome. She was fascinated with his grace as he moved carrying injured young Robin upstairs. As the knight bent his head, a long red-gold curl cascaded down his face, and he immediately pulled it back under the hood.

Bridget smiled. “That young knight was handsome. I didn’t see his face, but he was so strongly built and so tall that I could never forget such an imposing man.”

“Difficult to judge who he was, but at least we have something,” Guy observed. “Something else?”

“That knight barked orders to his men in Norman-French,” Bridget informed, looking at Guy. “We had a short chat, about Hood’s sickness, but I remember that his English was highly accented. He was very concerned with the boy’s injuries and even fetched his own physician; he stayed with Hood for two nights.”

Guy twisted his hands on his lap. “What about two other knights? What about the physician?”

“Other men were also upstairs, in another bedroom. One of them left earlier than the other one,” Bridget replied monotonously. “The physician was French for sure, but he spoke English better than his master; he stayed in Locksley for some time after the knight savior’s departure; then he left for Huntingdon with Hood.”

“I am intrigued by the youngest knight-savior,” Guy shared his thoughts. “Obviously, he was the master of the other two warriors, and he spoke highly accented English.”

“He must be a Norman knight,” Marian concluded.

“Or a disguised knight,” Guy presumed, thinking of his old experience in the Holy Land. If he had once disguised himself as a Saracen, the knight-savior might have been anyone. “When did the knight-savior depart from Locksley?”

“In two days after Hood was delivered to Locksley, the knight-savior was gone. He spent two nights with Hood upstairs and never left his bedchamber. Nobody saw his face,” Bridget continued her tale. “Sir Edward came to Locksley every three hours, checking on the boy’s state and heath.” Her face was puzzled. “It was so strange. Only Sir Edward and the physician were admitted to Hood’s bedroom. Even young Much, who was going mad in grief, was not given access there.”

“When was Hood taken to Huntingdon?” Guy continued the interrogation.

"In two days after Robin Hood was delivered to Locksley and immediately after the knight-savior was gone," Bridget answered. "Sir Edward of Knighton arranged the boy's transportation from Locksley to Huntingdon." She clapped her hands. "I was so shocked! I told Sir Edward that we should have waited, but he insisted! Hood was so sick! He could have died in a carriage!"

Marian swallowed heavily. "And what did my father say?"

"Sir Edward was adamant that the dying boy must be brought to Huntingdon," Bridget announced. "He was Hood's guardian and had a right to decide. We only obeyed."

Thornton blanched. His hands and legs were shaking. He could hardly breathe.

"Did Sir Edward accompany Hood to Huntingdon?" Guy inquired.

“Yes,” Bridget confirmed. “Sir Edward departed to Huntingdon with sick Robin Hood. He himself was carrying the boy to a carriage. The French physician departed on the same day.” She paused, remembering the past. “Much left together with his wounded and feverish master.”

Guy eyed Bridget suspiciously. “Why were you silent for such a long time?”

“Sir Edward ordered us to keep silent,” Bridget responded, her eyes flying to Thornton. “From the servants, only Thornton and I knew the truth.”

“Ah, I see,” Guy said automatically.

“Sir Edward threatened me that I would pay with my life if I didn’t keep silent,” Bridget said.

“What?” Marian looked absolutely shocked. “My father couldn’t do that!”

“He threatened me, my lady,” Bridget reiterated. All at once, she paled. “It was so strange… Several servants and villagers disappeared, and nobody saw them later. And then Sir Edward came back from Huntingdon and dismissed many household servants, excluding Thornton and me.”

Marian felt her hands shaking. “Oh my Lord,” she whispered.

Guy’s stomach was setting itself in knots. “Do you remember something else about that knight-savior?”

Bridget laughed. “Oh, a majestic Norman knight! I have never seen a man so muscular and so tall, but graceful like a panther!” she cackled. “And his hair was of such an unusual color.”

“Oh,” Guy breathed. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He couldn’t explain why he felt so uneasy. The unpleasant feeling, a sort of presentiment, originated somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.

In the corridor, the hooded man felt as if a sharp dagger had been plunged into his heart and twisted in his flesh. He was unwilling to kill but it was his only option. “I am sorry, Thornton and Bridget. I love you, but I must do that. Eleanor was right – everyone who knows the truth must be dealt with,” Malcolm mused.

Thornton shivered. He cursed himself again and again. He was a complete idiot who betrayed Sir Malcolm, his beloved Master Robin, and, ultimately, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine and King Richard. He must have kept his mouth shut, but he didn’t. He decided to tell Guy only the information about the bailiff’s attempts on Robin’s life, but he couldn’t know that Bridget would come and start gossiping.

Thornton turned to gaze at Bridget. “Stop! Stop! Bridget! Bridget!” he bellowed.

“Thornton, are you fine?” Bridget looked frightened.

“Bridget! You are a fool! Shut your mouth!” Thornton roared savagely.

Marian looked terrified, shaking her head. “Thornton, are you alright?”

“Go to hell, Thornton. You have gone mad,” Bridget hissed.

Guy snarled. “Thornton, I will beat you to death if you don’t shut up right now!” He swung his gaze to Bridget. “Continue, Bridget. We value your input.”

With an expression of a pious concentration, Malcolm prepared his old Saracen bow, a gift from a Saracen for the salvation of his life. He had enough arrows in his quiver. Every muscle of his body stretched out tightly, and Malcolm nocked an arrow, then shot one more.

“Thank you, Master Guy!” Bridget burst into merry laughter. “ _Robin Hood’s knight-savior was a remarkable man! He was blonde or red-…_ ”

“Bridget! St...” Thornton was unable to finish.

A low growl came from somewhere as two arrows whizzed in the air. The aim was deadly as each of two arrows struck Thornton and Bridget in their throats. They gasped for air, their faces pale; then they fell to the floor. The servants went still, very still.

Malcolm of Locksley lowered his bow and stormed out of the corridor into another corridor and then to the cellar, his vile curses scorching his own ears. He left the manor through the secret tunnel, the location of which was known only by a few people; soon he was on the way to Sherwood.

“Hood!” Guy roared, eyeing the room in a narrow scope, but failing to find an archer.

Marian screamed in shock and jumped to her feet. Guy roared savagely, calling to his guards. Commotion escalated as the guards began searching the manor. Soon, however, they realized that there was no mysterious intruder; the mysterious archer had already fled.

Guy narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as they rested on the bodies of Thornton and Bridget on the floor, arrows protruding out of their necks. It was not Robin Hood’s style, for there was no showoff.

“These arrows are not Hood’s. And you said that Robin is in the Holy Land,” Marian commented.

“I don’t think that it is Locksley,” Guy assented.

“The aim is deadly, like Robin’s,” she said, amusement coloring her words.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“My father,” she whispered.

Guy sighed. “He knew something.”

Marian shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“And neither do I,” he retorted.

A silence was overwhelming, their eyes locked. Then Guy tore his eyes from hers and stared at the corpses for a long, long time, as if waiting for an answer who was the criminal. Then he darted his gaze towards Marian and saw the fear and uncertainty in her eyes mirroring his own feelings.

§§§

Marian stood at Guy’s side in the great hall in the Castle of Nottingham. As usual, she attended the Council of Nobles, listening to the sheriff’s speeches about the upcoming increase in taxes in order to finance King Richard’s glorious Crusade in the Holy Land.

Sheriff Vaisey stood up from his chair, signaling the necessity for attention. “Lords and ladies, we have gathered here today to talk about the new taxes in Nottingham. King Richard’s troops are bravely fighting with the infidels in the Holy Land. Our king needs more money to win the holy war, and we cannot fail him.” Smiling, he ran his eyes across the nobles, his eyes full of malicious joy. “This time, we must collect more taxes than before. We are going to introduce the tax on sacks of wool. Now every merchant will pay forty shillings on each sack of wool exported.”

There was a moment’s stunned silence as the nobles contemplated the meaning of the announcement. They kept silent and then stupidly nodded their heads at Vaisey in a mute agreement.

“Good! Very good!” Vaisey gave a laugh; it was a dry, maniacal cackle. “Do you think that it will be enough to finance our holy war? Do you think that it will be enough to feed a huge army? A clue: no. We are also going to introduce another tax – the tax on the mills. Now each owner of a mill will have to pay one-third of his monthly income.” He pointed a finger at one of the attending noblemen. “And you, lords and ladies, must do everything to assure that you are able to pay. Your duty is to guarantee the timely and accurate payment and collection of taxes.”

“My esteemed lord sheriff, we will do everything to help our king win the holy war. Our brave soldiers cannot starve in the Holy Land,” one of the nobles declared obediently, lowering his eyes.

“You are loyal and dutiful subjects of our beloved and brave King Richard! And it is a wise decision not to disobey your sheriff,” Vaisey stated. “Sir Guy of Gisborne will collect the tax on mills in Nottingham at the castle within the next week. You have to pay the tax for the past three months.” He chuckled. “And then the money will be delivered to the starving soldiers in the Holy Land.”

An absolute silence reigned in the room. Nobody dared protest against the sheriff’s decisions, knowing that challenging his authority would cost them their titles, lands, and lives. They had already noticed Lord William Loughborough’s absence, suspecting that something tragic had happened to an ex-Crusader; many nobles believed that the sheriff had disposed of the young rebellious lord.

The sheriff’s satisfied gaze caught everyone's attention, and the nobles hung their heads, both embarrassed of their own cowardice and frightened of the repercussions.

Struggling to keep her face straight, Marian looked between Guy and the sheriff, her mind processing all the disastrous implications of the news. It would mean that the market would die and trade would cease; more people would be unable to pay taxes and would starve to death. Prince John was introducing the ruthless and efficient mechanisms of taxation to fund his political ambitions to take the Crown by assassinating King Richard, but Robin Hood wasn’t there and there was nobody else to stop the sheriff.

Marian swept her eyes over the lords, sighing deeply. She was irritated and ashamed that no one was brave enough to oppose the sheriff and openly disapprove of his new proposals. They were either cowards or the sheriff’s minions, she mused scornfully. Only one unique man once could do that, but he wasn’t in Nottingham and even in England.

A painful ache of cold loneliness crept into her angry thoughts. She remembered the first days of Robin’s return, before he had been outlawed. Robin had been the only noble who had publicly declared that the Crusade was the pope’s holy war, not England’s, making a ridiculous offer – either to substantially decrease or to cancel taxes at all. Although her face had been cold, she had been immensely proud of Robin at that moment.

Marian drew a deep breath and let out a sigh of frustration as she again caught herself on thoughts about Robin who was always on her mind, despite the fact that he had preferred to return to his king. She tried to hate Robin for his departure, but the truth was that she couldn’t.

To avoid looking at Vaisey’s ugly sneering face, Marian stared at Guy with a cold gaze that, however, also held a disquieting dark glint of anger. She wondered why Guy couldn’t be more like Robin – brave and righteous, and he didn’t dare say anything against the sheriff. She wanted him to publicly humiliate Vaisey by crushing at him a tornado of logical and solid arguments that would have proved that an increase in taxes was unnecessary, if not ridiculous. She wanted him to stand up and make a long, high-spirited speech in front of the audience that would listen to him with bated breath and open mouths; but that was not Guy’s style – it was Robin’s manner; Guy usually adhered to a cautious, quiet strategy, without any theatrics and drama.

Marian shook her head. She shouldn’t have compared Guy with Robin because she was married to Guy and Robin remained in the past. Yet, she couldn’t stop wishing Robin to be Guy in certain situations and Guy to be Robin in other cases. There was a small inner voice that assured her, stronger than all the reason and logic in the world, that she would never be content in her marriage to Guy and that she would have felt the same if she had married Robin. Guy was the sheriff’s man and a follower, Robin – the king’s man and a leader, but both men were unable to strike a happy medium. Marian said to herself that she wouldn’t place a great faith in her inner voices because it would mean that she doubted her choices.

Marian rose to her feet; she couldn’t keep silent. “My lord, I know that it is our duty to help King Richard win the ongoing war in the Holy Land, but we cannot afford to pay the tax on the mills for the three preceding months. Wouldn’t it be wiser to introduce this new tax starting from the next month?

Guy jumped from his chair and pulled Marian’s forearm, forcing her to sit down. “I think my wife is feeling unwell. We do apologize, my lord. ”

The sheriff groaned theatrically. “Well, well, well, Gisborne… Am I surprised? A clue: no. It’s always the same – your leper wife.” He gave Marian a grin. “You are a pretty little missy, but you are rather unruly, by the way. You should return to your embroidery and… more womanly activities.”

Marian flushed, insulted. “My lord, I haven’t committed any crime. I only said that–”

Guy interrupted her. “My lord, please permit me to leave and accompany my wife to Locksley.”

Marian gave Guy a cold glare, barely able to control her anger.

“No. Stay here. Both of you,” Vaisey said unexpectedly. “We have many interesting things to do after the Council of Nobles.”

Marian and Guy exchanged astonished glances, and then obediently sat down. The nobles were as silent as a tomb.

“Hush, Marian,” Guy whispered into her ear. “Think what you do and say.”

“You once promised to protect me,” Marian said quietly, with just a touch of irony in her voice. “What are you saying now?”

Guy shot her a sideways look. “I can do many things, but I am not God. The sheriff always has his own way, and times may come… when I will be able to do nothing. Don’t make our lives more difficult.”

Marian felt a lump in her throat. “The villagers cannot pay.”

“They will have to,” Guy said gruffly.

She didn’t answer. She had no doubt that Vaisey was plotting, thinking that the taxes might be used to fund a new regicide attempt. As the sheriff spoke about taxation, her mind meandered to the old conflict between Robin and Guy, and terror took hold of her at the thought what her husband would do now. In the past weeks, things were moving with a terrifying speed: Marian had learned the tragic story of Guy’s childhood and the reason of his hatred for Robin; Guy had killed Lord William Loughborough in the woods; someone had killed Thornton and Bridget; she wondered what would happen next.

Everyone in Nottingham was shocked with the murders of Thornton and Bridget. Moreover, the next day Bridget’s old father had been found dead in his bed, but it appeared that he had died in his sleep, for there were no traces of a murder in the room. Gisborne launched an investigation into the case, but he was unable to find a culprit. The sheriff tried to use the matter to his advantage and proclaimed that Robin Hood was responsible for the murder of his old servants. Marian asked Guy to interfere in order to prevent the sheriff from tarnishing Robin’s name, but Guy deliberately changed the topic.

Yet, the sheriff’s plan to damage Robin Hood’s reputation failed. No one believed that Robin had killed Thornton, his loyal servant, who had been the Steward of Earl of Huntingdon for so long. Besides, it was rumored that Robin had left Nottingham, and it was unlikely that someone of the outlaws had killed one of the oldest servants at the manor. Instead, the people whispered that it was Guy who killed those people. The sheriff was furious, Guy was silent, Marian was dumbfounded; Sir Malcolm of Locksley watched them from the distance, laughing at the show he had performed.

Marian was exhausted, both mentally and physically. In the past weeks, her sleep was restless, and she awoke with a scream and a sob every morning since the mysterious murder. She was tired of all those secrets in their lives, and she was mastered by a dim fear of potential dangers. Something was going on behind their backs, but neither Guy nor Marian had a clue what it was.

Suddenly, Marian felt Guy’s hand on her shoulder, signaling that the Council of Nobles was over. She heard the sheriff mumbling something about the public proclamation of an important decree. All the lords and ladies were invited to go to the front steps of the castle and listen to the proclamation. Amazement and alarm were stronger than Marian’s anger, and she decided to follow Guy.

Guy tenderly arranged a cashmere shawl about Marian's shoulders and helped her put on her winter coat. He took her hand in his and led her out of the castle. Allan stalked behind them a yard or so. They went out of the castle and ran their eyes over the courtyard. The sight before their eyes was unexpected: the square was crowded with nobles and townspeople.

Guy, Marian, and Allan stopped a small distance from the sheriff, his expression sullen, almost grave. A feeling of uneasiness assailed Marian when she caught the sight of Vaisey’s hands nervously clutching the parchment to his chest as he looked at many unfamiliar men standing nearby. She eyed Vaisey and the guests, counting their numbers, surprised to see so many new faces. Something made her strangely anxious about the presence of the guests in the town.

From the corner of her eye, Marian noticed that Guy’s neutral expression was replaced by tense curiosity, his gaze fixing on the men standing beside Vaisey. She saw his face evolving into feverish anxiety and then turning blank as he covered his emotions with a mask.

She swept her eyes over the guests again, taking in every feature of their appearance. The men who stood behind the sheriff wore warm uniform coats unfastened up to their waists, revealing a belted white tunic with the red cross of a Crusader and three golden-hued rampant lions on a field of red, which were emblazoned across the chest; it was _the coat of arms of the Coeur de Lion._ She gasped as the realization dawned upon her: the sheriff’s guests were King Richard’s men.

The two unknown men stood at the sheriff’s right side. Obviously, they were the Crusaders, but they were dressed in quite luxurious and trendy coats for common soldiers.

Marian felt her heart miss a beat as she looked at Guy whose face turned ashen from ghostly pale. He turned his gaze away, knowing that she had already guessed the king’s men had arrived in the town. Allan looked away, but Marian could have sworn that his face paled like Guy’s.

Sheriff Vaisey looked around, regarding his guests with a cautious look. He was very nervous, although he tried to stay outwardly calm. He didn’t expect that a small army of the Crusaders – around seventy people – would arrive in Nottingham at dawn. The garrison was caught off-guard as they didn’t anticipate any visitors, and Vaisey was asleep. There was no command to prevent the soldiers from entering or hold the castle in lockdown. Though they were bewildered, the guards at the gates of Nottingham allowed the visiting party to enter and ride into the town. Then the Crusaders rode to the castle. The soldiers were accommodated within the town for their rest.

The guests were King Richard’s men, Prince John and Vaisey’s sworn enemies by definition. There were too many soldiers for the escort party, and it made the situation rather suspicious in Vaisey’s view. The worst was that the commander of the king’s men was a powerful lord with Norman origins, who was staunchly loyal to King Richard and had fought in the Holy Land for years. Vaisey was relieved that the Crusaders were not planning to fight with the sheriff’s guards: they said that their sole mission was to make an official proclamation, but the sheriff didn’t believe them.

Vaisey promulgated, “Blah-di-blah-di-blah! Good people of Nottingham, today we have gathered here to meet very special guests.” He stilled for a moment and sighed. He was struggling to keep his tone neutral. “Look whom we have here! They are the chivalrous and brave Crusaders who were fighting alongside our beloved warrior king, King Richard the Lionheart, in the Holy Land and who risked their lives to liberate Jerusalem from the infidels. We are honored to greet them in our town where they came under the king’s orders to make an official announcement and probably some important news share with us.”

Marian’s heart thundered in her chest. She experienced a feeling of mingled relief and joy as she stared at the Crusaders, who probably served with Robin and met him in the Holy Land. For an instant, her eyes fixed on one of them and she smiled, feeling so close to Robin, as if it were a heartfelt joy of a woman rediscovering a long lost lover.

Guy gripped her forearm, and she turned her head to face him. Glaring at her with a sort of outrage, Guy hissed something bad about Robin, his clutch on her arm tightening. She was relieved when he glanced away, sighing in a fearful anticipation to hear the enigmatic proclamation. She hoped that King Richard was probably on his way home, although her gut feeling told her that it was not so.

“Now these brave holy warriors will make an announcement in the name of King Richard,” Vaisey said unpleasantly, pointing a finger at the huge figure of the young blonde man standing at his right.

The Crusader introduced himself as Sir Legrand de Walcott, a distinguished member of King Richard’s private guard and a royal messenger to England. He was a handsome giant whose Nordic features were framed with short golden hair, a high forehead, and lively, clear blue eyes. He was extremely muscular, with broad shoulders and strong arms. Legrand had joined Richard’s expedition to Acre from the very beginning and had proved his immense loyalty to his sovereign. Richard often used him as a messenger on the Crusade. Legrand spoke good English, but with a slight Occitan accent as he was born in Aquitaine. Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine liked and respected Legrand, and his mother was the queen’s lady-in-waiting until her death.

Marian looked hard at Legrand, their eyes met, and he smiled feebly at her. Legrand should have served for many years under Robin’s leadership and was Robin’s old war comrade. Perhaps, he had been sent to Nottingham not by the king, but by Robin, she thought. She wondered whether the announcement would be related to Robin and the gang.

An excited Allan eyed Legrand thoughtfully, thinking that the man should have known Robin very well. He was happy that he seemed to have finally found the way to contact Robin and the outlaws, all of whom he considered gone to the Holy Land together with Robin.

Sheriff Vaisey handed the parchment to Sir Legrand de Walcott. Giving Vaisey a sharp look, the Crusader took it and turned away, broke the seal quickly and unfolded the parchment. It was A Proclamation of Royal Pardon on behalf of Robin of Locksley. Legrand swept his eyes over the crowd, then lowered his gaze to the parchment; his booming, slightly accented voice resonated in the air.

_A Royal Proclamation_

_By King Richard I of England, the Lionheart_

_On behalf of Sir Robert (Robin) James Fitzooth of Locksley, 7th Earl of Huntingdon_

_We, Richard I of England, by the Grace of God the King of England, Duke of Normandy, Duke of Aquitaine, Duke of Gascony, Count of Anjou, Count of Maine, and Overlord of Brittany, hereby declare that Sir Robert (Robin) James Fitzooth of Locksley, 7th Earl of Huntingdon, the Lord of Locksley, and the Knight of our realm, also known as Robin Hood, is granted our official absolute, legal and valid, Royal Pardon of and for all wrongdoings, offenses, crimes, and all violations of law, which he committed or might have committed, with or without intent, at any time up to date of this our Royal Pardon._

_We hereby proclaim that this our Royal Pardon establishes that Sir Robin James Fitzooth of Locksley is exempted from all the existing and potential penalties and repercussions by the power of law in England and on the other territories of the Angevin Empire. Hereby, Sir Robin is cleared of all the charges leveled against him in England or all other lands ruled by us._

_We do hereby further declare that all the lands, manors, and all other properties, which had been owned by Sir Robin before he was outlawed, including the Earldom of Huntingdon, the estate of Locksley, and the other lands, are restored to the name of Sir Robin of Locksley, including all the existing and potential rights, titles, and interests in those lands and properties, accordingly. The only exception is the estate of Bonchurch, which was granted to Sir Much of Bonchurch at Sir Robin’s initiative and at the King of England’s approval._

_In case any properties were seized by the Crown or taken by lords of the realm for any other reason, we do hereby strictly command to surrender all of them immediately upon the request of the rightful lord or an appointed overlord, or upon the announcement of this our Royal Pardon. If legal authorities and local vassals refuse or neglect to surrender anything in the ownership of Sir Robin, they would be brought to justice and convicted of the said offense, such a person or persons caused or procured._

_This our Royal Pardon cannot be revoked in full or in part. No amendments to this our Royal Pardon can be made._

_In witness thereof,_

_Sir Robert de Beaumont, 4th Earl of Leicester_

_Sir Carter Leighton of Stretton, 3th Baron Clifton_

_Sir Edmund Fitzpatrick of Cranfield, 4th Earl of Middlesex_

_Sir Aubrey de Vere, 2nd Earl of Oxford_

_Sir Roger de Tosny, 8th Baron de Conches_

_have set their respective hands on and properly signed this our Royal Proclamation._

_This our Royal Proclamation is signed by King Richard I of England, the Lionheart._

_Given to Sir Robin of Locksley at our war court, in Acre, November 1193 of our Reign._

Legrand lapsed into silence as he finished reading the document. He looked around, his face serious that ruled out any possibility of jesting. He winked at his comrades and let out a brief smile to warm his strict features. Then he unrolled another parchment and started reading the royal pardon of all the outlaws from Robin Hood’s gang: Will, Djaq, Little John, and Much had been pardoned and rewarded months ago. Much had been elevated to nobility and had been granted the lodge of Bonchurch; he was also declared the knight of the English realm. Now Much was known as Sir Much of Bonchurch.

Everyone had to listen to the long and pedantic reading of the royal pardons, although the endless convolutions of legal terminology were rather irritating. Even if everyone wanted to get it over quickly, they still listened attentively and with interest. It seemed unbelievable that the outlaws had to sneak into Nottingham with great caution to avoid capture only a year ago, but now they were free people.

§§§

The sensational announcement drew gasps of amusement and surprise from the crowd of townsfolk and villagers. Nobody anticipated that the proclamation would touch the restoration of Robin Hood’s noble status and his pardon. After all, the outlaws had disappeared from Nottingham more than six months ago. The villagers questioned where Robin was and how it was possible that he had been pardoned during the king’s absence on English soil.

Sheriff Vaisey, Sir Guy of Gisborne, Lady Marian, and Allan didn’t speak, staring fixedly at the king’s messenger with amazement on their faces and in their eyes. Nobody moved and spoke, as if nothing had ever startled or frightened them so much. A long silence hung over them, like a dark cloud, feeding their minds with intensifying tragic memories, vague hopes, and fervent hatred.

As the initial shocked spell had been broken, loud joyful cries filled the air. The villagers gossiped and whispered, laughing and joking, to the accompaniment of almost wild cries of joy from the villagers of Locksley, who were especially happy that Gisborne would have to leave and that Robin was restored as their rightful lord. Everyone’s expressions were cheerful and satisfied.

“King Richard pardoned the outlaws!”

“Robin Hood is alive!”

“Robin Hood has been pardoned!”

“Master Robin is restored as the Lord of Locksley!”

“Lord Robin will come back to us!”

“But where is Robin Hood?”

“Where is Lord Robin?”

Marian was happy that Robin had been granted his titles and lands back. Yet, Robin’s absolute pardon meant that the former Gisborne lands were again the part of the Locksley estates. Robin again took everything from Guy, like in their childhood, and it was unfair. She looked at Guy, and her heart began to flutter with fear. “Guy, how are you?” Her tone was gentle.

Guy shuddered, and, through a haze swirling in his head, he distinguished the words “royal pardon” spoken by folks and ringing in his ears like the clang of a thousand swords. He fiercely hated Hood, the wretched creature that tormented him since childhood. “Hood hasn’t won yet. I will re-take everything back,” Guy said between clenched teeth.

“And what are you going to do?” Marian asked evenly. With a heavy heart, she compared Robin and Guy’s conflict with a vicious circle without a way out where the two men had been trapped years ago.

“I will think of something. You will see that I will win,” Guy insisted.

“Oh, Guy,” she whispered.

“Damned thief! I will never let this criminal and puppet steal my lands again,” Guy avowed.

“It is not funny,” Allan muttered to himself. He felt betrayed that Robin had been cleared of all the charges. But he made up his mind: he would do his best to contact Robin and help him at any cost. Maybe he still had a chance to get a pardon from the king if he played his cards well.

Guy’s gaze fell wrathfully on Allan. “Did you want to say something?”

“Look, Guy, I want to help you if I can,” Allan asserted.

“I don’t need that,” Guy flung back.

“Guy, I have your interests in my heart,” Allan assured his master.

“Do you really have my interests in your heart, Allan?” Guy flashed a ferocious smile, every line of his face sharp. “I shall never forget what you didn’t tell me some time ago.”

“Guy, you can scarcely accuse me of anything. I really didn’t know,” Allan said.

Marian’s eyes darted between Allan and Guy. She didn’t understand that Guy accused Allan of not informing him about her romance with Robin.

“Hood licks Richard’s boots or sleeps with him for his favor,” Guy said between clenched teeth.

“Are kidding me? To sleep with the king?” Allan’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Imagine how highly Richard Plantagenet favors Hood if he pardoned this thief before his return,” Guy hissed waspishly. “It is rumored that Richard’s favorites are his lovers. I think it is Hood’s case.”

Allan looked amazed. “Oh, no, I hardly believe in that.”

Marian shook her head disapprovingly and entreated, “Guy, please stop! You are talking nonsense!”

One of King Richard’s men, apparently the military commander of the king’s men, advanced forward and stood rooted near the sheriff. His coat was completely unfastened, revealing that he wore a white Crusader tunic and a jeweled belt, with a Saracen scimitar sheathed in a golden scabbard. He seemed a somber and magnificent figure in a plain but perfectly cut black coat. The commander scanned the crowd with his eyes only, without a nod or a tilt of his head. Speaking in a soft voice, in impeccable English, the man introduced himself as Sir Roger Robert de Lacy, Baron of Pontefract, and then he monotonously listed all his other titles.

Sir Roger de Lacy was an imposing young man, with brunet hair cut in the latest Norman fashion. His face was clean-shaven, coldly handsome, featuring thick dark brows, crooked mouth, and frighteningly cold green eyes full of arrogance and pride. His entire appearance boasted sharp and chilly handsomeness, but he was very charming and utterly male, and his looks could take the breath of any woman away. He looked very dangerous, but he had patrician and expressive features. His eyes pierced to the core, with an every-penetrating, burning gaze of fierce intensity, betraying his volatile, intemperate nature.

The nobles stared at Roger de Lacy in awe. He had fought in the Holy Land for many years and had come back to England only several weeks ago; many nobles didn’t recognize the grown-up lord, who had departed from England as a young boy so many years ago. Yet, de Lacy still looked so young and so attractive that it was nearly impossible to imagine that he was a battle-hardened and weary Crusader; his slight build and his average height didn’t make him look older. Only his dangerous appearance implied that he had deserved his reputation of a hellish warrior.

Roger de Lacy promulgated in perfect English, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have another proclamation in the name of King Richard the Lionheart." With a wide grin that took some of the edges off his fierce looks, he surveyed the crowd. “This proclamation is important for the people of Locksley.” Then de Lacy extracted another parchment from the inner pocket of his coat; it was another Royal Proclamation on behalf of Robin. He let out a luxury of a satisfied smile as he unrolled the parchment and started reading it aloud.

_A Royal Proclamation_

_By King Richard I of England, the Lionheart_

_On behalf of Sir Robert (Robin) James Fitzooth of Locksley, 7th Earl of Huntingdon_

_We, Richard I of England, by the Grace of God the King of England, Duke of Normandy, Duke of Aquitaine, Duke of Gascony, Count of Anjou, Count of Maine, Count of Nantes, and Overlord of Brittany, think that it is fit and desirable, by and with the advice of our Privy Council and in line with our fair judgment, to issue this our Royal Proclamation._

_We hereby inform that we recalled Sir Robert (Robin) of Locksley back to the Holy Land to continue his service to the King of England. He was again appointed the captain of the king’s private guard, so that he could continue fighting with the infidels as dictated by the Catholic Church and the pope of Rome._

_It has come to our attention that, during the absence of Sir Robin of Locksley in England, there can be a great chance that his lands and manors might be mismanaged, mistreated, harmed, and confiscated, whatever lawfully or unlawfully, legally or illegally. On these grounds, we do hereby decide that it is our exclusive right to appoint a temporary overlord of Sir Robin’s lands, manors, and other properties._

_Whereas, from the date of this our Royal Proclamation and onwards, Sir Roger Robert de Lacy, 6th Baron of Pontefract, 7th Lord of Bowland, Lord of Blackburnshire, 7th Baron of Halton, and Constable of Chester, who is also acting as the captain of the third guard of the king’s own forces, shall act as the temporary overlord for holding the lands, manors, and other properties, which are owned by Sir Robin of Locksley, as well as the estate of Bonchurch owned by Sir Much of Bonchurch. When Sir Robin and Sir Much return in England and dismiss the appointed overlord, they shall continue in Sir Roger’s stead._

_Under no circumstances, our decision can be canceled by the authority of the Prince Regent of England or the Regent of the Angevin Empire during our absence in the Angevin Empire. Our judgment is final and without appeal, mandatory for compliance and execution._

_Additionally, we do hereby order that the residents of all the said lands and manors are exempt from all taxes and levies, whether national, territorial, or local, for the duration of one calendar year._

_This our Royal Proclamation cannot be revoked in full or in part. No amendments and revisions are permitted._

_In witness thereof,_

_Sir Robert de Beaumont, 4th Earl of Leicester_

_Sir Carter Leighton of Stretton, 3th Baron Clifton_

_Sir Edmund Fitzpatrick of Cranfield, 4th Earl of Middlesex_

_Sir Aubrey de Vere, 2nd Earl of Oxford_

_Sir Roger de Tosny, 8th Baron de Conches_

_have set their respective hands on and properly signed this our Royal Proclamation._

_This our Royal Proclamation is signed by King Richard I of England, the Lionheart._

_Given to Sir Robin of Locksley at our war court, in Acre, November 1193 of our Reign._

Sir Roger de Lacy stopped reading and, satisfied, folded the parchment. He glanced at Sir Legrand de Walcott and smiled smugly; Legrand smiled back at him. Roger looked around and intercepted many bewildered glances in his direction.

A startled silence descended upon the square. The people found it strange that Roger de Lacy would be the temporary Lord of Locksley during Robin's absence. The villagers were amazed that Robin had gone to the Holy Land, and some were openly disappointed. Yet, it was declared that the king had commanded Robin to leave England, and it was enough to ease the people’s concerns.

"Well, Lord de Lacy, it is an unexpected twist of fate," Sheriff Vaisey said.

Roger de Lacy shrugged. "Yes." His voice spoke clearly and firmly in the silence.

"And you will say that I can change nothing," the sheriff assumed.

"No, you must obey King Richard's order, Lord Vaisey. As you have heard, there is no authority that may overrun King Richard's decision to appoint an overlord of Robin's lands. The copies of these documents were sent to Prince John, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, and at least to twenty powerful lords in England and on the continental lands."

"Blah-di-blah-di-blah! It is such a pity," Vaisey drawled, frustrated and angry.

"Oh, blah-di-blah-di-blah-blah-blah-di-di-blah! This is bad! This is very bad!" de Lacy teased, smiling with an infuriatingly snobbish smile. "I know you don't like it."

The sheriff smiled perfidiously. "No, I don't."

"The same proclamations were made at Prince John's court six days ago."

"I will ask Sir Jasper."

De Lacy flashed a smug smile. "Do it, my lord. The sooner, the better."

The hooded man in the large crowd burst out laughing. Malcolm of Locksley was extremely happy in the light of the restoration of Robin's noble status, titles, and lands. Guy of Gisborne was no longer the Lord of Locksley, and Malcolm was pleased that Guy was again lowered to nothing more than a landless knight and the sheriff’s henchman. Gisborne got what he deserved, Malcolm thought, his expression under his hood gloating. It was the greatest joy for him, like a sort of all-pervading warmth, to know that the lands of the Huntingdons again belonged to his eldest son who would continue their line and would cover the name of the family with glory. He was immensely grateful to King Richard who gave Robin back what was rightfully his son’s by birth and, thus, brought peace into Malcolm’s heart.

"Long live King Richard!" Malcolm of Locksley proclaimed in exhilarated tones.

"Long live King Richard!" A great roar went up from the crowd.

"Long live Robin Hood!" someone screamed.

The clamor of cheerful cries filled the air. The villagers had many reasons to be happy: the gang of the legendary outlaws had been pardoned by King Richard, that Gisborne would be removed from Locksley, and that they had been granted a tax grace period by the King of England. The peasants were happy after so many months of uncertainty and absence of news about Robin Hood, glorifying the name of their beloved hero and also feeling nearly brotherly friendliness towards the absentee king.

Gisborne loathed the bold, categorical declarations of the peasants and the townspeople. He was trying to suppress the movement of his trembling shoulders which could too clearly betray his irritation and anger. "Hood's unexpected pardon sparked scenes of euphoria," he commented scornfully.

"They show their happiness so openly," Marian murmured incredulously. She looked a bit faint. "But the sheriff is here! They must be mad!"

"They are reckless and stupid, like all peasants and their dirty hero," Guy said, his tone unmistakably implying Robin's allegiance to the low classes.

Allan looked at de Lacy with interest. "Well, mates, Roger de Lacy is infuriatingly arrogant, but he is a very charming rogue." He chuckled. "A high and mighty lord?"

"Sir Roger de Lacy is King Richard's favorite. He is one of the most influential and the richest Norman lords in the Angevin Empire; he is a direct descendant of old Norman nobles," Guy enlightened in a monotonous voice. "He was a shining star in the Holy Land, and he is Hero of Acre. He distinguished himself in the siege of Acre, in the legendary massacre of Acre, and in many other battles."

"Ah, he is a Crusader hero," Allan said. "Robin Hood is Hero of Acre as well."

"Shut up, Allan," Guy barked.

"Hey, mates, I meant nothing wrong," Allan defended himself, flashing a small knowing grin.

Marian tugged at his sleeve. "Allan, think before you speak!"

Allan said nothing. His eyes flew between Legrand de Walcott and Roger de Lacy, as he was thinking how to approach them and who should be the first one. He hoped to see them later or the other day.

Marian stared at Roger de Lacy, then shifted her gaze to Guy. "Guy, have you ever met Roger de Lacy before?"

"Yes. I had met Roger de Lacy only once in Normandy before the young braggart went to Acre with King Richard," Guy replied, looking down at her. "He was sixteen or seventeen when he joined the king on the Crusade. He is two years younger than Hood if I am not mistaken."

Meeting his gaze, Marian gave an exclamation of surprise. "He is so young, isn’t he?"

"Yes," Guy confirmed; his face twisted into a sarcastic smile. “Marian, Roger de Lacy is Robin Hood’s close friend. Don’t you know him by chance?”

Marian was filled with anger that Guy again hinted on her relationship with Robin, but she forced herself to look composed. “I met Sir Roger de Lacy once at court in Aquitaine years ago; it happened a year before King Richard departed to the Holy Land. I think that de Lacy was fifteen at that time.” She paused for a moment as memories of her early youth passed through her mind in long processional. “Robin introduced me to all his young friends, including Sir Robert de Beaumont and Sir Roger de Lacy, although I knew Sir Robert before we met in Aquitaine.”

“Where did you meet Robert de Beaumont before?” Guy asked; he was eager to hear more things about Marian’s life before he returned to Nottingham.

“Sir Robert de Beaumont and Sir Roger of Stoke, Robin’s another close friend, came to Locksley and to Robin’s estates in Huntingdon when they were sixteen and spent the whole autumn and winter with Robin,” Marian explained, although she found the memories of her early youth rather painful.

“Oh.” Allan cringed at the sound of Roger of Stoke’s name. He looked at Guy who was nervously biting his bottom lip. They both felt rather uncomfortable to learn such details.

Guy sighed deeply. “I see,” he said absently.

“Roger de Lacy and I were never close despite his friendship with Robin,” Marian continued, her eyes focused on Roger’s face. “Sir Roger never liked me and was deliberately distant.”

Guy was surprised that not all Robin’s friends liked Marian. “At that time, I guess de Lacy was a young pretty boy.” He laughed. “Nobody knew that he would become so dangerous.”

Marian arched a brow. "Dangerous?"

"He is very dangerous," Guy responded glumly. “There is nobody worse than Roger de Lacy in the role of a temporary overlord of Locksley. Only Hood's arrival with a royal pardon in his teeth would have been worse."

"Why?" Marian demanded, feeling beside herself with impatience.

Guy smirked. "Roger de Lacy is a bloodthirsty mischief-maker who only looks like a charming lad. He gained his fame and earned the confidence and respect of his fellow Crusaders for his severe executions of the Saracens and cruel massacres in the Holy Land; in the raids on towns and villages, he ordered to slaughter everyone and then capture survivors to have them executed later. He killed many Saracens in battles, and he participated in countless bloody massacres and executions of prisoners, including women and children." He chuckled. "If you have ever heard about the legendary massacre of three thousand prisoners after the capture of Acre, then I am delighted to introduce to you the very man who led his soldiers to this massacre, together with Lord Walter Sheridan."

An amazed Allan cried out, "Ah! And Sheridan as well!"

"Yes," Guy confirmed. "The massacre of Acre made Roger de Lacy and Walter Sheridan the infamous men in the Holy Land."

"Blimey! De Lacy is a bloody warrior!" Allan shook his head.

"Oh, God!" she cried, beside herself.

Guy laughed scornfully. "De Lacy, the high and mighty lord and King Richard's favorite, is a cruel murderer. All Crusaders are murderers, right?"

Marian paled. "This is… unholy… to kill children and women…"

"Hood and de Lacy are Heroes of Acre!" Guy laughed. "Oh, de Lacy indeed had mischief in Acre."

She gave him a hard glare. "You are implying nonsense against Robin, Guy. I will never believe that Hood killed children and women like Roger de Lacy."

"As far as I know, Hood didn't kill those three thousand prisoners," Guy acknowledged.

Marian was relieved to hear that. "That’s what I thought."

"Oh, Marian, no." Guy frowned at her. "The worst is that de Lacy is King Richard’s loyal subject, and his presence in Nottingham, even a rare one, is very dangerous. He will be a spy among us – a wretched spy who uses every chance to thwart the sheriff’s plans to serve his king's interests."

"I see." Marian was secretly delighted that de Lacy was King Richard's supporter.

“I wonder why Robin Hood is Robin of Locksley if he is the Earl of Huntingdon,” Allan speculated aloud. “I would have expected Robin to be Robin of Huntingdon.”

Marian gave a small smile. “Robin can be called Robin of Huntingdon and Robin of Locksley; it means the same in his case. But he was born in Locksley, so he is automatically called Robin of Locksley.”

“Hood was born an heir to the Earldom of Huntingdon and of Locksley, as well as an heir to several other estates in the north of England,” Guy said distastefully.

Allan smiled knowingly. “I know that Earls of Huntingdon are ancient Saxon nobles.”

Guy frowned. “How do you know that, Allan?”

“I just know,” Allan said with a mysterious smile. There was something in his past he didn’t wish to discuss with Guy and anyone else: he was a descendant of disgraced and dispossessed nobles.

Marian sighed tiredly. “Robin is 7th Earl of Huntingdon, and his ancestors owned vast lands in England before the Norman Conquest. The Earldom of Huntingdon was established at the beginning of the 10th century, and it was one of the seven earldoms of Saxon England during the reign of King Edward the Confessor. The Earl of Huntingdon kept his title following the Conquest in 1066, and he even married Lady Judith, the niece of King William I the Conqueror, if my memory serves me well.”

Allan whistled; he didn’t know such details about Robin. “It means that Robin is…” He paused, thinking.

“Robin Hood is a distant cousin of King Richard and Prince John,” Guy grumbled.

“Blimey,” Allan spelled out slowly. “Hood never told us anything about that.”

“Enough,” Guy thundered as he clenched his fists, his blood simmering in anger.

“Calm down, Guy. Lord Robert Leicester is also a very distant relative of the Plantagenets.” Marian released a sigh as her mind glided to thoughts of the old times. When she had been betrothed to Robin before the Third Crusade, once she had heard from one of her father’s friends that the Earl of Huntingdon had been a grand match for her, the daughter of a simple knight, even though her father had been Sheriff of Nottingham then. She had been very insulted by such words and had asked her father whether it had been the truth; she had received the confirmation from Sir Edward.

Allan rubbed his cheek. “I think that many noble lineages intersect.”

Marian gave a nod. “Yes.”

“Indeed,” Guy muttered. Robin Hood was the only surviving direct descendant of Earls of Huntingdon, and if he had died childless, his cousins would have inherited the title. But Guy dreamt of being granted the title of Earl of Huntingdon after Robin had been outlawed, but the earldom passed to Prince John. Now he again had nothing and his future was very bleak. 

Meanwhile, the hooded man in the crowd laughed uproariously, so hard his sides hurt. Then he swiveled and walked away, intending to spend the night in the deserted outlaws’ camp.

Roger de Lacy turned away from the sheriff, and his face twisted sardonically as his eyes locked with Guy’s orbs blazing with anger. He barely suppressed a laugh at the thought about Gisborne’s despondent spirits. He didn’t care what Guy felt due to the loss of Robin’s lands. Robin was one of his best friends, and he loathed Gisborne for everything the man in black leather had done to Robin. Roger knew about the reasons for Robin’s hatred for Guy as Robin had told him about this story a long time ago, when they had befriended each other at the knighthood training in Poitou.

In Nottingham, Roger de Lacy’s mission was to take Robin’s lands and manors into his capable hands and manage them during his friend’s absence, as King Richard had ordered and as Robin had asked him to do. His task was to observe the sheriff and the Black Knights; he was obliged to make a regular report to his liege through the vast network of Richard’s spies.

“I suspect that we will have to meet each other rather often,” Sheriff Vaisey said cautiously.

Roger de Lacy swung his gaze to the sheriff. “I won’t always be in Nottingham. From time to time, I will travel to Chester and Pontefract. But I will still be here enough to make sure that Robin’s wealth is managed to the best of my abilities and to the pleasure of King Richard and Robin.”

Vaisey smirked. “I have no doubt.”

The people curiously watched de Lacy conversing with the sheriff in an odious silence, as though they were seeking to prolong it as long as possible.

Roger’s expression was very arrogant. “Milord, when will your henchman leave Locksley Manor, so that my people and I can move in?” He was outrageously blunt.

“I will ask Sir Guy of Gisborne and his wife to leave today.”

“Oh, let them have enough time. After all, they have to pack their things, and I don’t want them to forget anything in Locksley and then wander around as vagabonds,” de Lacy retorted.

The sheriff grinned darkly. “Oh, Lord de Lacy, you are my brave and famous holy warrior! How was your life in the Holy Land?”

“Bloodthirsty but interesting,” de Lacy replied.

“You built a brilliant career at the king’s war court. We have heard a lot about your great reputation of a hellish warrior. Now I am sure that you will quickly succeed in carving out a path for yourself in England,” the sheriff continued in a mocking voice.

Roger stiffened. After his return, he wanted to avoid talking about the Crusade at least for a while. “My past doesn't deserve such eulogies. It was just a war.”

Sending his companion a mocking look, the sheriff reached out for de Lacy’s shoulder and patted it almost tenderly. “Did life in the desert amuse you enough? Did you get leprosy there? Did your sickness distract you from your highly spirited but dark ways to terrorize and kill the Saracens? Did you have many Saracen lepers for entertainment there?” he teased, enraged by the young man's contemptuous attitude. “Mmm… Saracen women must be an exotic dainty for a virile youth.”

Roger de Lacy didn’t know Vaisey well, but he suspected that his own bloodlust on the battlefield, which was usually great, matched in its magnitude Vaisey’s desire to spill the blood of innocent countrymen. The difference was that he wasn’t a latent sadist like Vaisey. “I pledge that one day I will show my bloody ways to you, Lord Vaisey,” he said dryly, meaning the ways he always dealt with traitors. “I promise before God that I will do right by you in all things.”

Vaisey tilted his head, a hint of a smile coming to his lips. “I have no doubt that you can do that.”

De Lacy tossed away all mocking insults and enunciated fiercely, “You are a fortunate man, Lord Vaisey, that I am in a good mood today, and I will say to you only one thing. I know that you want to plot against me, but you shouldn’t do that, for you will lose much if you do that, and you know that my response to any plot will be war,” he warned. “And recall that I am not alone here. Don’t wage war against me.”

“Do you mean your small army?” The sheriff feigned a smile.

De Lacy began to speak sharply and bluntly. “Do you want to learn how to cause yourself torments and spin out them? I am always kind and holy, yet arrogant and self-assured, but I am a quiet and amiable companion if I am not disturbed and challenged. If we are civil and no one attacks another party, which I hope to achieve, I will keep my soldiers happy and occupied.”

The sheriff stared at de Lacy in a good deal of shock that he covered with an evil smile curving his lips and showing his fake jeweled teeth. Roger de Lacy was a dangerous opponent, more dangerous than Robin Hood, due to his unprincipled ignorance of humanity and often chivalry in fighting. Hood had the inner darkness that sometimes spilled out if he was angry and lost his control over himself; but de Lacy had the inner and outer darkness, although there was the inward light in him that was capable of transforming even the intangible atoms of danger in him into the vision of passionate zealousness to serve his king at any cost. The only consolation was that de Lacy seemed to have no plans to attack Vaisey today, and if he did that, the sheriff would have been disappointed in the young devil.

“Is Robin Hood your friend? You both fought in the Holy Land,” the sheriff inquired directly.

“Sir Robin, Lord Robin, Lord Locksley, Lord Huntingdon, or Huntingdon,” de Lacy corrected.

Vaisey’s anger was bubbling up to the surface once more, but he tried to bridle his temper, taking deep, steadying breaths and smiling. “Of course, Sir Robin!”

“Robin and I are close friends,” de Lacy stated seriously.

A sly grin worked up its way on Vaisey’s face. “We shall become dear friends as well, Lord de Lacy.”

Roger’s mouth twisted. “I doubt that. Now excuse me, please.”

Breathing heavily and seething with anger, mingled with contempt, Vaisey looked at de Lacy’s back, cursing King Richard in his mind for sending exactly this man to Nottingham.

§§§

In spite of the gathering gray clouds in the sky, the large and joyful crowd was not going to disperse soon. Rebecca of Locksley, who was there together with her children Kate, Matthew, and Maggie, perched on the front steps of one of the buildings in the courtyard before the castle, where they had clambered for a better view over the crowd. They craned their necks to watch the crowd and the sheriff with sparkling eyes. Rebecca was the first to speak.

“Hood showed his true colors,” Rebecca snarled. “Hood again deserted his people. This thief has never truly taken care of us. All he did was for his glory. He likes playing a hero and a martyr.”

“Mother, I don’t know why you are so displeased,” Kate of Locksley said quietly. “Robin Hood is a loyal and honest man. He is close to King Richard, and that is good.”

“You seem to have a great admiration for Hood?” Rebecca asked with a wry smile.

“It is better to have Hood as our lord than Guy of Gisborne,” Kate said dryly.

Rebecca directed at Kate a hard glare. “My girl, tell me one thing and honestly. I see that you are interested in Robin Hood. Were you and he… somehow… in touch after his return to England?”

Her mother’s rapid-fire quiz set Kate's blood to boiling. “Mother, if you are so anxious to have answers, ask Lord Locksley himself,” she flung back huffily.

“He is again the Lord Locksley,” Rebecca said irritably. “It is a great misfortune that it is so.”

Matthew shook his head in disagreement. “No, mother! No! It is much better that Lord Robin will come back to us! He will teach me to shoot with the greatest accuracy! I will ask him!”

Rebecca scowled. “Matthew, I will never allow you to shoot! This is dangerous!”

“But mother…” The boy was upset.

“If our mother said that you cannot do that, then you must forget about that,” Maggie said.

“Matthew, listen to Maggie. She knows what she says.” Rebecca managed a nod and a half-hearted smile. “I hope that you, Kate, don’t think of Hood. Don’t even think to look at him as a man.”

“Oh, Master Robin is not interested in me.” From the corner of her eye, Kate watched the blonde-haired man, the former Robin Hood’s man – Allan-a-dale. She deeply sympathized with him.

Allan, Marian, and Guy started talking about the arrival of the king’s men in Nottingham. They didn’t see Vaisey who approached them from the back.

A sneering Vaisey nearly sang as he appeared beside them, “Gizzy, Gizzy, Gizzy! Your beautiful blue eyes should fill with tears! You have again lost everything!” He stopped near Guy and patted his arm. “Are you happy, my boy? Are you pleased that Robin Hood has again defeated you?” He laughed maliciously. “Even when Hood is in Acre, he still managed to crawl under your skin and humiliate you.”

Guy repressed his anger that flared up in him at Vaisey’s words. “My Lord, I assume that you won’t allow Roger de Lacy to become an overlord of Hood’s former lands and property. I will remain the Lord of Locksley,” Guy told Vaisey.

“You think so, my boy? You truly think so?” Vaisey murmured. “I am sorry, but I cannot do that, Gisborne.” He cocked his head, smiling. “Now you have only me and my favor.”

“Damn King Richard and Hood,” Guy growled.

The sheriff didn’t like that he again had to deal with Gisborne’s dispossession. Yet, his disingenuous mind concluded that Robin Hood’s new victory would foment Guy’s hatred for Robin and he would do his best to regain everything back. Vaisey disliked that Guy’s love for Marian had melted Gisborne’s heart and had made him more human. He wanted to have the old Guy back, who carried out all Vaisey’s orders, obeying without any protest and any hint of remorse. Vaisey planned to use Guy’s new troubles to his own selfish advantage and transform Gisborne into the same man whom he had once met in Normandy, without humanity and soft spots in the black heart.

“But why nothing can be done?” Allan was simply curious.

“You heard that King Richard made himself the only man responsible for the choice of an overlord of Robin Hood’s lands. Even if de Lacy cannot fulfill his obligations as a temporary lord, only the King of England himself may choose whom to appoint in his stead,” Vaisey elaborated, a grin shooting across his face. “Although de Lacy is King Richard’s very loyal knight, Prince John has already made the same proclamation in London, if we choose to believe Lord de Lacy, and I believe him.”

“Prince John knows?” Guy twitched the corners of his mouth in despair.

The older man nodded. “Yes, the prince is very likely to know. In fact, I am sure that he knows.”

“Damn!” Guy cursed.

“And Lord de Lacy brought a small army with him,” Vaisey added.

“We can fight with him,” Guy offered.

“No. We cannot fight with Roger de Lacy. De Lacy has strongholds against both Richard and John, but he is loyal to Richard. He has main support from Richard and a backup in the form of Prince John’s deep affection for him,” the sheriff explained. “He will keep peace as long as we do the same.”

Allan and Marian exchanged brief looks. Marian’s face glowed with delight; Allan also smiled. They understood why Richard had sent Roger de Lacy to represent Robin’s interests: Roger was loved by the king himself and liked by Prince John, but he was utterly loyal to Richard. They had a chance to test some depths of Richard’s cunningness: the king had a keen and crafty mind.

Guy’s shoulders slumped in defeat, as if someone had rammed a fist into his face, and for a moment his face transformed into the expression of tension mingled with vulnerability. “Hood will never win the game, even if he wins one round. I will get him and kill him for what he did to me today,” he whispered.

Marian was shaking her head, watching Guy from the corner of her eye. With seeming calm, she regarded him with a hard glare. All at once, she felt a mixture of ironic pity, deep disappointment, and sweet gentleness, which, however, were mixed with her deep affection for her husband.

The sheriff laughed demonically. “La di da di da, Gisborne! I doubt you will be able to do that. You will never get Hood because you are a looser, my boy. He will get you before you even know that, Gizzy!” He pursed his lips. “Hood has his problems, but nobody can deny that he… is an interesting boy.”

Guy seethed with anger but feigned an insufferable expression. “I will get him,” he swore.

“Save your breath, Gisborne. Hood is not an outlaw anymore,” Vaisey said. “You cannot get him.”

Marian couldn’t tolerate another moment of the torture with Guy’s continuous surrender to the sheriff. She averted her eyes from Guy, shifting her gaze at Allan, who met her look for a moment, with a kind of understanding, and then gazed away. Guy’s eyes focused abruptly on his wife, and he let out a volley of oaths that should have shocked everyone, but neither Marian nor Allan reacted.

The sheriff requested that Guy and he step aside for a private chat.

Vaisey gave a cracking laugh, staring into Guy’s eyes. “Gisborne, you sit at the right hand of the father. You will _share the fruits of our labor._ You will be a God amongst men when we will the final round of our little cattish game, as long as I can trust you. Be patient, and I will help you re-take the Locksley estates and deal with our outlaw bird. I will help you get even greater rewards.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Guy said humbly.

“But Gisborne, I want to say that I am… a little disappointed.” Vaisey’s voice took a lower octave. “Don’t become weak and grow soft. I don’t like that.” He smiled. “Remember your old bloody ways.” Then he began to stalk towards the king’s men stood.

Somber and shuddering with rage, Guy returned to Allan and Marian.

Guy watched the sheriff conversing with the king’s men. As he noticed that Legrand had left his friends and made his way through the large crowd, he felt his blood boiling with anger. The blonde-haired Norman had destroyed his life by delivering and reading Robin’s absolute pardon. The vision of Legrand in the crowd inflamed hatred for the king’s messenger and for Robin. The lethal fog of hatred for Robin and everyone associated with his new plight paralyzed him, and he could not break through it.

Marian wanted to leave, but she felt a strong hand gripping her forearm, restricting her movement. “What do you want?” she asked rudely.

Guy bent his head and whispered, “Stay here, with Allan. I have some deals."

Not saying another word and releasing his wife’s hand, Gisborne threaded his way through the crowd to find Legrand. Marian and Allan shared baffled glances, staring after Guy; they had no idea what Guy wanted and why he had left them alone.

At the same moment, Sheriff Vaisey’s rancorous voice coursed through the air, declaring that everyone could leave. Before the people made a single movement, a great roar went up from the crowd: “Long live King Richard!” Only then they began to scurry quickly away from the square.

The backward movement of the crowd was just enough to let Guy slip behind Legrand and stood before him, blocking his way.

Legrand flashed a quizzical look. “Sir Guy of Gisborne,” he spat. “How can I help you?”

“Sir Legrand,” Guy hissed from between clenched teeth. “I want to have a minute with you.”

Legrand blinked, a look of wonderment spreading across his face. “And what can I do for you?”

Guy’s steel blue eyes darkened with rage. “Show me the king’s Royal Proclamation. I have to make sure that this parchment is not a fake one. I am the sheriff’s right-hand man; I have a right to see this document before I decide whether I will leave Locksley or not.”

Legrand slanted Guy a scornful look. “I am King Richard’s messenger, the king’s loyal and trusted man, not a criminal who travels thousands of miles to bring a fake message.”

“Give it to me,” Guy repeated, gnashing his teeth.

“I have already given Lord Vaisey the Royal Proclamation. You can ask him if you wish to see it.”

Red dots of rage were floating before Guy’s eyes, clouding his vision and judgment, and he uttered careless words without thinking. “So you won’t give it to me, you the king’s puppet? Maybe you are not going to show the paper to me because Hood and you conspired to drive me out of Locksley by giving the sheriff a fake pardon?” Guy said quickly, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Sir Guy, do you understand what you are saying?” Legrand asked, his voice shaking with anger. “No, by Heaven! You understand nothing unless it is spelled out to you. You are no longer Lord of Locksley – you are homeless. You will leave Locksley Manor as soon as Monsieur de Lacy wishes.”

Guy unsheathed his sword. “I won’t leave Locksley! Locksley is mine! This thief Hood won’t have Locksley! He won’t have what rightfully belongs to me!”

“It is very stupid from your side to fight with me.”

“You are a coward!”

“If you want, I don’t mind,” Legrand snapped as he drew his sword from the scabbard. “I am an honest man, and I hate dealing with dunderheads like you, but this case is… exceptional.” He flexed his fingers and grasped the sheath of his sword more firmly.

Giving a savage war cry, Gisborne lunged at Legrand, raising his heavy broadsword as though it were weightless. Legrand blocked an overhead blow and lunged at Guy who easily parried and lunged again. They exploded into movement, the sheriff’s man against the king’s man, and danced around one another, crossing their blades. The people around them backed away from the fighting men, screaming in horror.

“Vaisey, stop your henchman! Stop this madman!” Roger de Lacy shrilled, looking at the sheriff with an expression of anger mingled with loathing. “Stop him right now!”

“Guy, stop! Stop!” Marian cried out in horror.

The sheriff looked at Roger de Lacy, pleased that the young arrogant man was taken aback by Gisborne’s actions. He was stealthily proud that Gisborne was not going to give what he considered his – Locksley – without a fight, although he knew that he would have to make Guy leave Locksley. “Then order your friend to stop,” he said, glaring at the Crusader. “Sir Legrand, I believe.”

“Legrand, stop! Gisborne, stop!” de Lacy commanded. “Stop this skirmish!”

But there was no reaction from the two angry people, adrenaline pumping in their veins, who even didn’t hear the cries, concentrated on the fight and mutual exchange of taunts and insults. Guy gave a single angry overhead slash before he had to parry Legrand’s powerful diagonal blow that almost sent him on the ground. Raising his sword again, Guy lunged at his rival.

Guy's jaw set under the surge of anger that flared up in him. “I will show you who the Lord of Locksley is. You will tell this thief and murderer that Locksley is mine!”

Legrand grimaced. “I will show you who is a thief and a murderer!” He swung his sword at Gisborne, and its tip scratched Guy’s left cheek. “You are an assassin! You tried to kill the king!”

A howl of fury drowned his words. Guy clapped his hand to the long scratch that marked his cheek. His fingers reddened. “You signed your death warrant, you foolish bear!”

Legrand parried a diagonal blow and then crushed the strongest overhead blow that transformed into an elegant crisscross combination in the end. Guy wanted to parry, but he even wasn’t able to figure out the type and direction of Legrand’s blow. Then Legrand leaned forward and made another assault, kicking sword out of Guy’s arm.

Legrand laughed, staring at Guy who stood, quivering with rage. “Sir Guy, you should calm down.”

The king’s men slowly made their way to the place of the duel, through the crowd, who, though all being in horror, stood and watched the fight in awe. Sir Roger de Lacy ordered his men to separate the two fuming men. Vaisey and his guards also stalked there.

“No!” Guy roared. With a roar of outrage, he realized that he was about to lose everything very soon. His damaged pride and dignity made him look like an insulted king, but there were despair and anger in his heart. He could never agree to accept his surrender. He had to avenge his new disgrace.

Running his eyes over the crowd, Guy spotted the young boy standing in several steps from him. His massive legs ate up the distance between the boy and himself in one stride. He laughed as his hand reached out to grasp a few strands of the boy’s hair. Ignoring the boy’s cries of protest and the pleas of the people to release him, Guy jerked him sharply forward. His arms encircled the boy’s waist, and he lifted him above the crowd.

“Sir Guy, let go of my son! Please! Please!” Rebecca of Locksley pleaded. “Matthew! Matthew!”

“Mother, mother!” Matthew screamed, struggling with Gisborne, trying to wrench out of Guy’s grasp.

“Matthew! Matthew!” Kate shouted. “Someone! Help my brother! Help my brother!”

Marian and Allan had to thread their way through the rolling sea of the people; they didn’t see Guy take the boy in his arms. To their amazement, the people behaved so foolishly that they unintentionally blocked the path for both the sheriff’s guards and the king’s men. As Allan was trying to push aside the folks, Marian was breathlessly clinging to him from the back, listening to women’s desperate cries not far from them.

Finally, Marian and Allan managed to catch a glimpse of Guy who was holding Matthew in his hands. Guy was talking to Legrand, who looked abashed and bewildered. The closer they got to them, the louder cries and pleas for help were. Marian paid no attention to the surrounding people, her entire being focused on Guy and the boy. She cringed as she saw Guy hold the boy by the hair, his other hand pointed at the king’s messenger.

“These people have endured enough from you,” Matthew told Guy between clenched teeth, his eyes blazing with anger. “One day, they will rise up and destroy you and all men like you.”

Gisborne tightened his grip on Matthew’s arm. “Dangerous talk… Well, I will soon beat that out of you.”

Legrand put his sword down and stepped forward as Guy commanded. But Guy didn’t release the boy. In the next moment, Legrand suddenly threw himself forward in an attempt to disarm Guy and take Matthew from him, but Gisborne took a step back and, with a cry of rage, plunged his blade deeply into the boy’s chest. Matthew gasped for air, his eyes grew wide; he convulsed in agony, moaned in pain, and closed his eyes, taking his last shallow breath.

“You killed him, you bastard!” Legrand bawled out. “You killed an innocent boy!”

“Matthew! Matthew!” Rebecca and Kate chorused, their faces panic-stricken.

“Brother!” little Maggie whimpered.

Guy glanced at the dead boy with glassy eyes, in disbelief that he had killed him; he shook the small body and called his victim’s name, but no answer followed. Thick blood welled from the wound in Matthew’s chest and spilled down, soaking the pavement and all around. “I… I…” He stuttered in shock.

“You killed my son!” Rebecca screeched. “Monster! Monster! I defended you when others cursed and condemned you, and now you murdered my son!”

Loud cries of horror filled the air. The people were shocked with the violent turn of events.

“He killed the boy! He killed the boy!”

“Lord, save us! He killed young Matthew!”

“It was Gisborne! He also killed Thornton and Bridget from Locksley!”

Raging with grief and disbelief that their fight had caused the death of an innocent young boy, Legrand swung his sword at Guy. Gisborne also advanced angrily, blocking Legrand’s blows. This time, Guy cornered Legrand, who put his hand on the hilt of the dagger tucked into his belt behind his back. Legrand tried to stab Gisborne with his sword, but Gisborne grabbed his arm, twisted it behind him with such a great strength that Legrand staggered backwards and cried out in pain.

Gisborne pointed his sword at his rival’s chest. “First strike, I think.”

Legrand laughed. “Sure, you are already dead.”

Suddenly, Guy felt a sharp dagger at his stomach. He cursed and pulled his sword away, stupidly looking down at the small weapon Legrand was holding against his belt. Unexpectedly, Legrand punched Guy into his chest violently, his blow so strong that Guy dropped to his knees beside the corpse of the boy whom he had just killed. In a moment, the sheriff and his guards finally got to the place of the fight and murder. The king’s men appeared there in less than a minute.

The sheriff watched the last part of the fight between Legrand and Gisborne. “So Gisborne has met his match,” he commented. “I like your style, Sir Legrand, very sneaky.”

Legrand didn’t answer and marched in the direction of the Crusaders. The king’s men wore worried expressions, some of them clearly shocked with what they saw in Nottingham. They had been warned that the town was controlled by the villainous and treacherous sheriff, but they hadn’t known that everything was so bad. Even Roger de Lacy was visibly shocked.

“How are you feeling, Gizzy?” Vaisey asked with a sneer. “Was his blow heavy for you?”

Guy grimaced. “I feel like a hundred blacksmiths playing the anvil before my eyes.”

The sheriff laughed. “Congratulations, Gisborne. Well done with the boy.”

A hysterically sobbing Rebecca walked to the sheriff; her face was tear-stained, but her eyes blazed with anger. “My lord sheriff, this man killed my son. I demand his arrest.” She pointed at Guy.

“La di da di da! It was an act of self-defense as the boy tried to kill Gisborne,” the sheriff spoke in a malevolent tone that chilled everyone around. “My men and I are in control here. I know better whom to arrest and condemn.” The corners of his lips curved in a virulent smile. “I am sorry, missy. Your boy tried to kill my right-hand man, but Guy defended himself and killed him.”

“You know that it is not true,” Rebecca hissed.

Vaisey laughed. “And what can you do, my leper peasant? Nothing! Go home and don’t make me angry. Or I will show you who the master of this town is.”

The crowd parted, and Marian and Allan appeared in sight. Looking at Matthew’s dead body on the ground, Marian blinked like a night-bird caught suddenly in the light. She glanced at Allan and saw horror in his gaze. She couldn’t believe that Guy had murdered an innocent boy in cold blood; it was not what she wanted to see in her husband.

Marian approached Guy and stood before him, her hands on her hips. “Guy, I don’t know how to call what you did,” she spelled out slowly. Her tone was icily cold. “It would be better if I were trampled by the throng so that I could avoid looking at you now.”

“I am so sorry.” These were the only words Guy could say. He was aware of the sounds of whispered accusations towards him, but he couldn’t pull his eyes from the young Matthew, his face the color of gray ash, blood flowing out of his mortal wound; his body lay in several steps from where he stood.

Marian turned her gaze from Guy, her eyes focusing at Rebecca and Kate. A rush of pity and sorrow drove out the last vestiges of resentment she felt for Rebecca. “I am sorry for what my husband did. If I could give my life for your son’s, I would gladly do that.”

Rebecca nodded gravely. “It is not your fault, Lady Marian.”

Kate turned her eyes at Marian with a furious look. “You are not a murderer – your husband is!”

Marian swung around and walked away. She didn’t see Guy’s wistful eyes lingering at her delicate form that soon blended with the crowd. She didn’t want to spend more time in close proximity to the sheriff and Guy. She quickened her footsteps, spurred on by a fury that crystallized all her loathing she felt for Guy at that moment. Since their marriage, she hadn’t fantasized that one moment she would come to regard Guy chiefly as the cause of disappointment and unhappiness to her, but it had happened today. Then the image of Robin flickered in her mind, and she felt tears welling up under her eyelids. Knowing that she could break in tears, she hurried to get away to the forest.

Roger de Lacy strode towards the sheriff. His face had a stony expression. “Lord Vaisey, as the new overlord of Locksley and all the lands owned by Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntingdon, I hereby demand that you arrest Sir Guy Fitzcorbet of Gisborne for the murder of the boy from Locksley.”

A silence followed. The Crusaders and the sheriff’s men looked at each other, shaking their heads and holding their breath; there were worry and horror in their eyes. The sheriff’s sing-song voice roused everyone from their dismal meditations.

“Excuse me, Crusader boy?” Vaisey scoffed, not quite sure how the younger man would react, yet feeling self-confident and determined to say the last word. “I don’t care if you are God himself or the king’s favorite or Hood’s friend, but you won’t make any demands here, Lord de Lacy.” His nasty smile grew wider. “You came here to manage Robin’s assets – mind your business.”

“I saw that this boy was killed. As Robin’s representative, I appeal to you for justice,” Roger replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Gisborne defended himself from the boy. He is not guilty,” Vaisey voiced his verdict.

“Very well,” Roger said with feigned humbleness. He was defeated; he was supposed to only watch the sheriff and the situation in Nottingham during the king’s absence, not meddling into Vaisey’s affairs.

The sheriff regarded him with apparent glee. “Good, good, my holy boy! We understood each another!”

Gisborne said nothing. He was disgusted with himself. He had disappointed Marian and had probably ruined all his chances to ever find common ground with his wife, in their unstable marriage because of Robin Hood’s shadow lurking between them. He wasn’t even grateful that the sheriff had publicly lied and defended him. The flood of heavy, erosive bitterness came from that realization, and Guy felt as if he were about to faint under the onslaught of loneliness and fits of anger and hatred towards himself.

Rebecca, Kate, and little Maggie cast hateful glances at Roger de Lacy. Kate hurled some imprecation in a harsh, fierce voice so full of hate.

As she began to stalk towards the sheriff, Allan gripped her forearm. “Where are you going?”

Kate gave him a glare. “I can take care of myself.”

“What are you doing?” Allan asked, alarmed.

“I am going to avenge my brother’s death. I will kill Gisborne,” Kate said resolutely.

Allan blocked her path. “Stop right now, you fool. You won’t kill him! Instead, he will kill you!”

“I don’t care! I will do what I want!” Kate persisted. “Nobody will stop me!” She was able to slide out of his grip and stepped forward, ignoring Allan’s pleas to stop and listen.

Oblivious of everything save for her own purpose, Kate of Locksley pushed herself forward and stood rooted near the sheriff. “This man, Sir Guy of Gisborne, killed my brother! He is a murderer! The sheriff is lying!” she stated, her eyes glittering with rage.

“What is your name, lass?” Roger de Lacy asked. As he heard someone whisper her real name, he went on. He grabbed her forearm and dragged her away from the sheriff. “Kate, I have to give you my sincere condolences for the death of your brother.”

“It is too late for Matthew,” Kate snapped.

Vaisey stepped forward nonchalantly, smiling. “What a surprise! What a bold leper!”

A terrified Kate gasped as her eyes met the sheriff’s cold gaze. “What does he look at me so maliciously?”

“Quiet! Why would we stick our heads in a noose when we know the outcome of our protest?” Roger said warningly. “I am sorry, Kate, but there is no way we can do something now,” he whispered.

“Why?” Kate said in a voice throbbing with anger.

“I just want to avoid being outlawed and having Gisborne again at Locksley, for this is not what Robin and our king want,” Roger explained. “Gisborne will pay for everything, but in a due time.”

“You promise that he will pay?” Kate asked hopefully.

“I do,” Roger pledged, a smile creeping onto his face. “I am sorry, but we have to wait.”

“Fine,” Kate conceded. “And when will Robin Hood come back?”

“Robin will return with King Richard. I hope it happens soon,” de Lacy responded. It was humiliating that he had to comply and couldn’t punish Gisborne, but he it was not a time for action; not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Marian is trying to make Guy see the light in the end of the tunnel. She is trying to guide Guy, but she again fails. Guy is cautious and indecisive, thinking that he cannot break from Vaisey. Anger is simmering in his blood, but one day it will boil. Guy always acts slowly – something has to overwhelm him to make him act. In our case, it is self-loathing and self-hatred, which torment him and in the end will push him to rebel against Vaisey.
> 
> You have much information about the assassination attempts on Robin's life, which were committed by Bailiff Longhorn at the order of King Henry. Malcolm of Locksley kills Thornton and Bridget who can say more than Guy and Marian need to know. I assume that Malcolm was as good with a bow as Robin was. Let's say that outstanding archery skills are the Locksley legacy.
> 
> Vaisey needs to collect more taxes because Prince John needs funds to finance the organization of more assassination attempts on King Richard life. Some information about taxation policies in the reigns of King Richard and Prince John will be given in the next chapters.
> 
> Robin of Locksley is officially pardoned by King Richard; he cannot marry the king’s cousin if he is an outlaw. Roger de Lacy is said to be Robin's close friend and war comrade in this story. I said once that Robin met Robert de Beaumont, Earl of Leicester, as well as Roger de Lacy, Roger of Stoke, Legrand de Walcott, and some other people at the knighthood training under the leadership of Lord Walter Sheridan at Prince Richard's court when Robin was around fifteen.
> 
> Robert de Beaumont, Earl of Leicester, and Roger de Lacy, Baron of Pontefract, are real historical personalities. They distinguished themselves on the Third Crusade and were King Richard's favorites. De Beaumont was one of Richard's chief generals, as well as de Lacy. The historical information about these two people is correct.
> 
> Guy is angry, very angry because he is again homeless – for the second time in his life. He loses his temper and fights with Legrand. Guy kills Matthew, but this murder will be another step towards redemption, even though it may sound strange. He needs to hit the rock bottom before he is ready for redemption and begins to change.


	15. Prince John's court

**Chapter 15**

**Prince John’s court**

All at once, a crowd of people, waving weapons and screaming, came rushing forward. They were enraged with the recent arrests of many villagers, their relatives, from Locksley, Clun, and Nettlestone. They didn’t know that the sheriff had entered into a profitable agreement with the Irishman Finn MacMurrough to sell the villagers into an army Finn planned to use to free Ireland; MacMurrough and his brother, Tiernan, had aspirations to rule Ireland themselves. For Vaisey, it was a good chance to raise more money for Prince John and the Black Knights, who needed more money to cover the rising expenses on the new regicide attempt on King Richard’s life.

Vaisey couldn’t predict such a violent reaction of the peasants. “What is that? What are they doing?” He wrinkled his brow, confused. “Gisborne, do something! Don’t stand and look around, you oaf! Shut them up! Stop them! Do something!”

The angry villagers advanced forward, through the crowd, which parted the way for them with a gasp of amazement. They stood before the sheriff and began speaking about the unfair arrests of their relatives and friends, asking him to spare their lives and let them go home. There were several key speakers who explained that the arrested people had done nothing wrong and that they had no clue why they had been detained. They also said that if the sheriff had taken all those people from the villages, they would be unable to pay taxes very soon due to lack of work labor force.

“They are truly unable to pay taxes, my lord,” Guy said somewhat compassionately. Surprisingly, he took pity on the peasants who stupidly tried to civilly talk to the sheriff.

“Gisborne, are you concerned about the peasants?” Vaisey was amazed. “I didn’t teach you to care for these. Have you already forgotten my lessons?”

Guy lowered his eyes. “I remember everything, my lord. I don’t care for the peasants. But they are dissatisfied… and dangerous; I have never seen them so angry before, and I think they may rebel against us.” It was an unsatisfactory reply, but he had nothing more to offer. Looking at Vaisey, he already knew what order he would get from the man.

“I don’t care that the peasants want and do.” Vaisey bent his head to Guy. “We must raise more taxes. We, the Black Knights, need money. It is Prince John’s order.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Pity you are married. Marian won’t love if you hurt these villagers,” Vaisey said with a giggle.

“What are we going to do, my lord?” Guy asked, confused.

“Gisborne, what can you do? How do you think?”

Guy shrugged. “Shall I arrest them?”

“I, Lord Peter Vaisey, the Sheriff of Nottingham, hereby pronounce sentence on the naughty and annoying peasants, blah-di-blah-di-blah. Arrest them and throw them into my cells!” Vaisey nearly sang, grinning and shaking his head. “And then I will think what to do with them!”

“Arrest them? All of them? If they resist, shall I use force?”

The common people overestimated Vaisey’s willingness to listen to their pleas. The sheriff made an angry movement of his hand. “Come along, Gisborne. Use force anyway.” He chuckled loudly, winking and nudging his hand with Guy’s elbow. “Guy, let’s have our fun.”

His heart beating faster, his mind telling him that he was going to do a wrong thing, Guy forced himself to raise his hand and gave a signal to the guards. “Guards! Seize them!”

The sheriff’s guards and mercenaries, led by Guy of Gisborne, charged like thunderbolts at the villagers, transfixed several men with their swords and lances and then proceeded to capture and arrest the others. The mercenaries appeared behind Sir Roger de Lacy and Sir Legrand de Walcott, who watched the actions of the guards in the same shock they felt when Gisborne had murdered Matthew.

“Very sweet! Very charming! Attack them, attack!” Vaisey gloated. “How pity that we don’t have _the king of the paupers_ here! I would have given him and his leper outlaws a grand execution!”

The villagers began defending themselves, fiercely fighting with Vaisey’s soldiers. Without Roger de Lacy’s command, the Crusaders charged into the battle, but they were only trying to disarm the sheriff’s guards so as they could not harm the people. Although they were abashed and shocked, de Lacy and Legrand charged into the battle automatically, with the same intention to stop the sheriff’s men and the angry people.

“Get down and stay down!” Roger de Lacy commanded. He ran to Kate and Rebecca, repeating the same over and over again so that the people could hear and digest his words; then he pushed the two women and Maggie to the ground. They only nodded meekly with no intention of disobeying.

“Stop this, Lord Vaisey! Stop fighting with your own people!” Legrand bellowed. “Stop! Stop!”

A violent roar of angry voices broke out as the common people spoke about Guy and his men in harsh and hateful tones. Guy put a brave face on his irritation as he wove his way through the crowd, often pausing to disarm the peasants, though inside he was seething with anger mingled with dread.

“Guy of Gisborne is the devil! He will kill all of us!” one of the peasants fumed.

“Gisborne murdered Thornton and Bridget!” Raymond, the old carpenter from Locksley, shrilled.

“Robin Hood is our lord! We want Robin back!” one of the villagers from Locksley shouted.

Guy’s blood boiled in rage. Rage quickly turned to white-hot hatred for the people who had worshiped Robin Hood and hated him. He had become more lenient with the villagers after he had married Marian, but the people were not grateful to him, like they had always been grateful to Robin Hood for every loaf of bread the hero had donated them. The same villagers had once banished Guy and his sister from Locksley, and he didn’t forget about that. “Disarm them! Capture them!” Guy commanded.

Three mercenaries launched an assault on Legrand. He lunged at one of them and plunged his sword into his chest. Then he blocked another guard’s overhead blow, grabbed his sword arm and, disarming him, knocked him out by punching him in the jaw. Roger de Lacy advanced forward and lunged at the third mercenary, disarming him and the slamming his fist into his opponent’s face. Then Roger swung his sword into another man’s helmet, and the mercenary fell on his back unconscious.

Vaisey drew his sword and came back to Legrand. “Oh, you are a giant! You have such a spirit, hmm?”

The sheriff swung an overhand blow, but Legrand ducked under his arm, smashing his large fist into the sheriff’s stomach and sending the older man to the ground. Screaming like a mad animal, Vaisey doubled over in pain, seeing stars. Legrand span and put a sword to his throat, demanding that Vaisey stops his guards. Not frightened at all, the sheriff hurled forward, trying to knock the sword from Legrand’s hand. The giant grabbed Vaisey’s arm and slapped him across his cheek; then he punched the sheriff in the jaw to render him unconscious.

Legrand lunged at one of the guards, but, in the next moment, he was struck by two arrows into the back. Clenching his teeth and enduring a terrible pain, Legrand crushed a strong diagonal blow on his opponent and then plunged his blade right into his opponent’s neck. Uttering a loud war cry, he attacked another guard and thrust his sword into the man’s stomach. His movements were growing sluggish, but he continued fighting with the sheriff’s men; he swung around and plunged his sword into the back of the mercenary, whose body then tumbled to the ground.

Legrand made a new assault on another guard, intending to disarm or kill him, but the sheriff, who had already regained his conscience, pulled a long dagger out of his coat and stabbed the blonde-haired man from the back. Legrand staggered backwards, and his big body dropped to the ground.

 “Why is everything so strange?” Vaisey said to himself, rubbing his cheek.

The fight between the sheriff’s guards, the king’s men, and the angry villagers continued for quite some time. Roger de Lacy’s high voice hung over the crowd as he barked commands, in English and in Norman-French, to protect the villagers and avoid hurting the sheriff’s men as much as possible. It was not a fierce battle as it sprang up suddenly. The sense of reality returned to him, and Gisborne didn’t order to kill the Crusaders and only commanded to arrest the villagers.

Soon everything was over. Gisborne arrested half of the people who came to talk to the sheriff; the king’s men managed to prevent killings of many civilians, both armed and unarmed, but Guy didn’t harm the villagers, to his credit. Each party ended up with some wounded and dead men. The conflict was the spontaneous clash, organized by the sheriff to punish the disobedient villagers and intimidate them, for Vaisey simply enjoyed hurting peasants physically, like he enjoyed everyone’s pain.

Sheriff Vaisey uttered a short bark of laughter, expressive of his annoyance. “These miserable and ragged peasants are nothing more than mosquitoes that suck and suck your blood until they drain everything from your body. They must be punished to show them that their place is in the dirt.”

“I don’t share your opinion, milord,” Roger de Lacy responded, his hand on the hilt of his scimitar, ready to draw the weapon if Vaisey made any sudden moves.

Vaisey laughed spitefully. “You are a green boy, Lord de Lacy. You don’t understand how to deal with these worthless peasants. Don’t worry, my dear… holy boy and hellish warrior, we are friends.” He paused briefly, smirking. “I have to thank you for your help in stopping this mess.”

Roger glared at the sheriff frostily. “One day you will pay, Lord Vaisey.”

Vaisey laughed wholeheartedly. “We may become a great pair. If you take a chance to befriend me instead of being more prone to plotting and humiliating each other, you might discover that you want the same things I do, my boy.”

Roger gave him a glare; his green eyes twinkled like hard emeralds in the afternoon winter sun. “We are very different – we will never be friends, my lord. There is nothing more to say on this matter.” He didn’t bow and simply walked away, searching for his men.

Allan was utterly shocked when he noticed the wounded king’s messenger. Legrand lay on his stomach on the ground, surrounded by several dead guards, motionless and silent, his white Crusader tunic soaked with blood; two arrows were protruding out of his back. Looking at the chaos Vaisey’s men had caused, Allan rushed to the blonde-haired Norman warrior, who had bravely fallen in the battle, trying to save the innocent villagers.

Allan pulled out two arrows from the Crusader’s back, and Legrand moaned in pain. His arms encircled the knight’s back, pulling him up; then he knelt by the Norman’. “Sir Legrand, I will get help. You should wait a little,” he murmured.

Legrand opened his eyes, his gaze fixing on the man leaning over him. “Allan,” he whispered.

“You know my name?” Allan asked, bewildered that the knight knew him.

“I guessed who you are,” Legrand replied in a silken tone.

Allan’s heart missed a beat. “How?”

Legrand’s eyebrows rose as a quiet laughter rolled from his throat. “Robin,” he whispered. “Robin thought you wanted to get out of this hell hole.”

“Robin spoke about me?”

Legrand swallowed hard. “He sent a letter to you. It is about you.”

“But… why?” Allan questioned, halting over the words.

“Robin has a noble heart.” The Crusader winced in pain as he moved his hand, putting it at the upper part of his coat. “Take it. It is in the inner pocket of my coat.”

Allan dipped his hand into the pocket and drew out the folded parchment with the royal seal. "I didn’t expect that, but I wanted to contact him through you," he admitted in a petulant voice.

“Thesaurus Patriae,” Legrand said.

“What? What?”

“Thesaurus Patriae,” Legrand reiterated. “This is the password for all the contacts with Robin. Without this password, you won’t be able to send him a message or find him.”

“But, Sir Legrand, how can I meet Robin?”

“Everything is in this message,” Legrand whispered, his breathing turning shallow. “Remember this password. If you ever come to King Richard to warn him or if you try to meet with Robin, nobody will speak to you without this password. Never forget it.”

“I will remember,” Allan said quietly, in disbelief.

They didn’t take any notice of the young dark-haired man who emerged from the crowd and approached them from the back. He stood in silence long enough to learn what they talked about, and only then he decided to reveal his presence. He was Roger de Lacy.

“Legrand,” Roger de Lacy called, his face evolving into a perfect cameo of grief. His heart bore the heavy weight of guilt that he allowed his friend to be killed in that stupid fight.

“Roger, my friend,” Legrand whispered, a faint, amiable smile on his face. “I am so glad that you discovered me here before I die.”

“And how could I not find you?” Roger inquired quietly, yet with sadness that he could not control. “You were going to part from me, from all your friends, forever, without a word of farewell, with no regrets, without even seeing one of us at your side?”

“You are here, Roger, and now I am happy. You are my old and beloved friend,” Legrand murmured, turning his head toward Allan. “Allan took Robin’s message. He will be able to help us.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Roger smoothed. “I will get a doctor and–”

Legrand interrupted him, chuckling softly. “Roger, never lie to a dying man.” He laughed and winced in pain. “We have no time, and you know that.”

Roger took Legrand’s large hand in his. “Legrand, who wounded you? Who?”

“Vaisey,” the dying man whispered.

The brutal truth of the words struck Allan and Roger like a vehement blow. Roger’s eyes glistened with devilish imps of hatred for the sheriff, and he cursed quietly. Allan opened his mouth to say something, but he felt that it was not his place to speak now.

Roger lowered his eyes, taking in the blood stains on his friend’s white tunic. “This monster will pay,” he said curtly as he lifted his dark eyes suddenly, with a flash of anger.

“But not now, Roger,” Legrand managed to say, with great effort. “The villagers?”

“They are fine. We saved as many as we could,” Roger replied.

“Excellent,” Legrand retorted, letting out a small laugh to escape his lips. “Tell Robin that I am very proud of him. He is a hero and did the right thing when he publicly defied this sadistic sheriff. Tell Robin that I died proud that he was my friend and my captain for many years.”

“I will tell him,” Roger promised.

Legrand smiled. “My friend, my dear Roger, I will miss you.”

Allan watched the farewell of the two men whom he had never seen before, but who were Robin’s friends and one of whom was dying because of the sheriff, Allan’s master. He watched Roger’s face, previously cold and arrogant, change into an epitome of grief and his eyes fill with tears; Roger stroked Legrand’s hair with his right hand, the other clutching the giant’s larger hand in a gesture of friendly affection. The knowledge that the sheriff had murdered Legrand had hurt Allan so seriously that it had left an aching void somewhere in the region of his heart. He was ashamed, bitterly ashamed that he worked for Vaisey and that he had betrayed Robin.

“I am proud of being your friend, Legrand.” Roger let out a lugubrious smile.

“Protect King Richard.” Legrand drew a shallow breath.

“We will protect and save our king,” Roger pledged.

“And our little bird…” Legrand smiled as he referred to Robin by the nickname given by the Earl of Leicester. “Our little bird must survive. He is too unique to die.” He squeezed Roger’s hand. “Promise me, Roger, to protect both the king and Robin… Robin means a lot… to the king and England.”

Roger nodded. “I promise.”

“I love you, my dear Roger.” Legrand smiled vaguely. Then he shut his eyes and drew his last breath.

Roger literally spat the sheriff’s name, the sound like a poison contaminating everything good, yet he was powerless to counteract the evil. It was a cry of rage, for black fury coursed through his heart. Then, abruptly, violence left him. There was a moment's silence before he went on in a low, toneless voice. “A stronger man I never knew. A soldier – not like any other! And he was killed by the creature of destruction and misery, by the devil.”

“I am so sorry. He was a good man,” Allan muttered.

Roger held his breath, gazing at something far away, beyond the enclosing buildings and the surrounding people. Then he glanced at Allan. “Leave. Please be extremely careful; we don’t need more deaths. I will find you soon,” he addressed the other man, his bloodless lips trembling.

Allan gave a nod and got to his feet. “Thank you. Take care, Lord de Lacy.”

“I have to take care of many things.” Roger put his warm hand on Legrand’s forearm.

Allan felt his heart hammer wildly in his chest. Never had he pictured that anything so sad and so disgusting could have been caused by Gisborne and Vaisey on the same day. He heard Roger sigh and mutter something under his breath, perhaps, an oath of revenge, before the Crusader folded his hands together and interlaced his fingers, lowering his eyes, as though in an attitude of prayer.

§§§

Allan gave Roger de Lacy one last glance, sympathetic and doleful, and then he hurried to vanish in the crowd. He was determined to find Kate of Locksley among the villagers, wondering where the young spirited blonde had gone, hoping that she didn’t do something foolish.

Having not found Kate in the courtyard, Allan made his way to Locksley. From afar he spotted Kate sitting on the steps of the small cottage. The sight of Kate, flushed and shivering, with closed eyes, drew from him murmurs of shock and sympathy. He pitied Kate’s misfortunes as he himself had lost his brother and understood her pain.

Allan sat on the steps beside Kate. “Kate, I am sorry that your brother is dead.”

Kate raised her tear-stained eyes at Allan. “You are Gisborne’s man!”

“Yes, I am,” Allan admitted defiantly.

She jumped to her feet. “Go away! Go away to your master who murdered my brother!”

Allan scrambled to his feet. “If you are gonna be rude with me, I will better go.”

“Wait!” Kate called. “Why did you come here?”

He rubbed his cheek. “I was worried about you.”

“About me?”

His lips stretched in a grin, charming but sad. “Yes. I know the pain you feel. I also lost my brother.”

She sighed. “When?”

“The sheriff hanged Tom more than a year ago.”

After one brief, astonished look, Kate came closer to Allan. “And yet you work for Gisborne. You used to be Robin Hood’s man, but you betrayed him.”

“Yes, I betrayed Robin,” he confirmed, with an unpleasant twinge.

“But you are working for the man who is working for the sheriff!”

“Look, Kate, everything is not simple,” Allan admitted in a mournful tone. “When I was with Robin, I didn’t get anything. You know, we risked our lives to get money for the poor, and then we gave all of it away. I didn’t understand Robin at that time, and he didn’t want to understand that I wanted security and… something else.” He sighed. “I agreed to betray Robin and myself when I was in Vaisey’s magic room in the dungeons.”

Kate looked horrified. “What did they do to you?”

He lowered his head. “Gisborne tortured me, and I gave in. I wanted money.”

She stared back, unimpressed. “So you prefer to work for this murderer!”

“No, no. Not now. I am going to make up for what I did to Robin.”

“Really?”

His lips curled into a smile as soon as she asked that question. “Yes.”

“You will leave Gisborne?”

Allan gave her a pointed look. “Now, I am not being funny, but I won’t share with you what I will do. And please tell nobody what I told you.”

“I won’t,” she pledged.

“Kate, I am not going to justify Gisborne, but I assure you that Gisborne is not a very bad man. He is just a misguided and misunderstood man.”

“A murderer cannot be misguided. Get out of my sight and never come back. I don’t want to see you again. You are not worth talking to you,” Kate lashed out at him. Her speech was followed by a spate of oaths and exclamations and invocations not many peasants and thieves knew.

Allan growled. Kate infuriated him with her insults. Every time he talked to her, she became frustrated and pushed him away again and again. She beguiled and enraged him, but she also charmed and enchanted him, and no other woman in the world had such an effect on him. “Hey! I have seen this temper in action many times, right? I would better go if you don’t want to stop. I have come to help you, not to be insulted.”

“I am sorry,” she said sincerely.

“Yeah, alright,” he said, letting out a little smile.

Allan made a step towards her, and Kate launched herself full-force into his open arms, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Lord de Lacy promised that Gisborne would be punished.”

“Believe me that he is not a bad man. I know him rather well.” He felt a stab of pain in his chest as Kate punched him hard and sprang aside. “Ouch! I didn’t say anything.”

She rapidly blinked back her tears. “Go away while my mother is not here,” she murmured, turning around and leaving Allan alone on the steps. She took an oath to take her revenge against Guy of Gisborne, even if she had to go to the pits of hell. She would make Gisborne pay, sooner or later.

“What a woman,” Allan murmured to himself, a silly smile on his lips.

At the same, Marian entered Locksley Manor to find everything in chaotic mess. The servants hurried and scurried about the parlor and the living room, packing their things into large boxes and loading the luggage to the carriage that waited outside the manor. She guessed that Guy had ordered everyone to prepare for their departure from Locksley, and she was pleased with their relocation.

Marian ascended the stairs and stopped near the master bedroom, which she occupied with Guy. She opened the door and entered. Guy wasn’t there. As she scanned the room, she noticed that his gloves were thrown across a chair, and his leather jacket lay on the bed. She also saw more pieces of clothing, mainly male undergarments made out of black silk, on the bedside table and on two high-back armchairs in the corner of the room. She realized that Guy had already started packing his things.

“Looking for me, my dear wife,” a voice spoke behind her.

Marian swung around, and Guy’s sharp profile caught her eye. Guy was standing at the doorway. He was without his jacket, dressed in a black brocade shirt and black leather pants. His face wore the most peculiarly strained expression, as if he were trying very hard not to run away from the room.

“Did you order the servants to pack?” Marian inquired in a cold voice.

“Yes, I did. The sheriff commanded us to remove out things from Locksley Manor,” Guy said. “Roger de Lacy is going to spend the night here.”

“I see.” The answer was automatic.

“It is already an early afternoon. Where have you been for such a long time?”

Marian jerked her head up. Ignoring him, she was about to leave when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head and stared into his eyes. “I was strolling in the forest.”

“I should have guessed that you would go to Sherwood,” he replied dryly.

“I needed time to calm down,” she said in a tense voice, struggling to keep it devoid of anger. “You must be proud of yourself after what you have done today.”

Guy shuddered. Utter despair possessed his heart, and he looked visibly shaken, as if he could hardly believe what he had killed Kate’s brother. “Marian, by God, I didn’t mean to kill him... Please forgive me. Damnation, I don’t know what came over me.”

“I know,” Marian snapped. “It seems fairly clear to me. You were angry that Robin was pardoned and that you again became a landless knight. Anger blinded you, and you killed an innocent boy.”

His fingers tightened on her elbow. “Marian, forgive me.”

“I may forgive, but will Rebecca of Locksley and Kate of Locksley forgive you?”

“I… I am guilty of murdering him.” His voice was cracking.

Marian examined every inch of him. Something tore inside her, and she felt the sharp spasm of pain in her heart. She could have easily distinguished the gamut of emotions playing across his handsome face – anguish, disbelief, guilt, sorrow, and vulnerability. She thought that she had never seen Guy so vulnerable and so human, and she pitied him a great deal at that moment. She knew that she would eventually forgive him, but the shock from his actions gripped her entire heart.

“You had no right to kill the boy,” she said after a long silence.

“I did a wrong thing.” Guilt assailed him with a new strength; he groaned aloud, angry with himself.

“Guy, you must learn to control the darkness in your heart. You are not a monster, but I know that there is a part of you that enjoys killing, not as much as the sheriff does, but it still enjoys bloodshed.”

Catching her inexorable look, he quickly said, “And now you will tell me that I should impose a non-killing policy on myself like Robin Hood did?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Guy strode forward and sat on the edge of the bed. “You are again comparing me with this thief!” he shrilled. “When will you stop tormenting me by bringing Hood into our discussions?”

“Guy, I don’t want to torment you,” Marian assured. “On the contrary, I want to help you. You have to understand that there are things which Robin may teach you to do.” Her voice sounded firm and stern. “Robin killed many people in the Holy Land, but he can control the part of his heart, which whispers to him that killing is better than letting someone live. You need to learn this practice.”

“You will always look at Hood as an example of a great man, won’t you?” Guy shot her a fulminating glare. “No doubt you have been enjoying yourself as you lied to me about your relationship with him. You enjoyed at my expense, laughing at me behind my back, calling me stupid and–”

She interrupted him. “I have never found it pleasant when I lied to you. On the contrary, I have always felt guilty of leading a life full of lies and deceits, but I was at crossroads, for I had to help the people.” She didn’t add that she was torn between Robin and Guy; she didn’t want to have a scandal with him.

“And you want me to believe you,” he continued.

“Yes, I do,” she whispered, her eyes glittering with what looked like tears. “I want you to change, and that’s why I asked you to establish an alliance with Robin, and then let your anger and hatred go.”

“We will leave the manor in two-three hours.” He deliberately jumped to another topic.

“I am glad that we are leaving Locksley.” And she was truly relieved.

A bitter smile crossed his face. “At least if we live in the castle, I won’t be haunted by the memories of my childhood as much as I have always been the case since I moved to Locksley.”

Amazement coursed through her at his admission. “Maybe you will sleep better in this case.”

Guy clenched his fists at his sides. “I doubt that.”

“And now you will hate Robin more ferociously,” Marian assumed.

“Don’t you agree that I have every right to hate him? Robin of Locksley took my lands from me twice.”

She shook her head in disagreement. “Many years ago, you lost your lands not only because of Robin’s unwillingness to help you, but also because everyone in Locksley wanted to banish you and your sister after the fire.” She sighed heavily. “Now you lost your lands because the king pardoned Robin and simply gave his most loyal knight everything he had owned before he was outlawed. And it was obvious that Robin would be eventually pardoned and that you would be again homeless.”

“You are again siding with Hood!” He struggled for breath, holding his hand against his chest.

“I am with neither of you,” Marian declared resolutely. “It is not Robin’s fault that he was pardoned, but it is your fault that you chose to ally yourself with a wrong man – Vaisey.”

The words made Guy flinch. “I had to make this choice! I had to do that because I was cornered!”

“I remember the sad story of your first meeting with Vaisey in Rouen, and I agree that you were cornered.” She began to stalk towards the door, but then she paused and turned back as an overwhelming urge to have the last word seized her. Her eyes filled with tears, and there was the resolute suppression of pain in her gaze. “But there is always a way out of any situation, even the most hopeless one. The question is whether you want to find it.” Then she stormed out of the room.

He glanced toward the door, where she had just disappeared. “It is Vaisey’s fault. And it is also Hood’s fault,” he muttered to himself. At that moment, he hated Hood and Vaisey, as well as himself.

§§§

The February evening was chilly and damp, rain lashing upon the city of London from the sky as dark as charcoal. On the banks of the River Thames, the Tower of London’s whitewashed walls gleamed like lollipops at a royal feast. Guy of Gisborne, followed by Allan, entered the great hall at the Tower of London. Gilded lamps hung from the ceiling, casting a pool of light into which they stepped in. The huge hall bathed in candlelight. They had arrived in London a day before at Sheriff Vaisey’s specific order; they had delivered the recently collected taxes in Nottinghamshire personally to Prince John.

Today’s great feast was a banquet of unprecedented extravagance. Prince John worshiped opulent and lavish lifestyle, and magnificent feasts were regular events at royal court. John and his closest entourage could have feasted so splendidly that the wine flowed along the pavement and walls of the palace. Prince John organized such a lavish feast as a prime example of a feast a ruler of England should have. The great hall and the entire Tower of London were decorated with unheard-of splendor, and more than four hundred guests were assembled for a banquet.

Amazed with the luxury around them, Guy and Allan passed between several huge tables covered with damask cloths set with platters of silver-gilt and gold. It was a lavish banquet the staff had worked on for days. The chamber was ablaze with lamps and beeswax candles, the sweet honey smell permeating the air and creating a soft heat haze. Such an opulent twist was an outrageous picture when the peasants and even many nobles were desperate for money and food.

The tables and sideboards were laden the platters of pheasant, poultry, venison, fish, roasts, goose, duck, ham, pullets, soups clear and cream, bright greens and salads, and sauces of every flavor. There were platters overflowing with chafing dishes, piled with such mouth-watering delicacies as partridges in aspic, pheasants surrounded with fruits and vegetables, candied fruits and still-steaming bread, roast kids, pigeon pies, cassoulets of rice and ham.

Guy settled in the corner of the banqueting table and spread a linen napkin across his lap; Allan landed next to his master, at Guy’s left side. There was an orgy of splendid food, and they were feasting on delicious meat, goose, and pigeon pies, a mixture of salads, and exotic fruits, as well as two goblets of red wine, which, however, had an appalling taste, like all the wines served at Prince John’s court.

Suddenly, they heard the sounds of military fanfares that were intended to stimulate the appetite, which Prince John believed to be entertaining and useful for people’s health. Then the stewards began to pass among the guests, offering them silver trays laden with flowers and dainties and fruits.

The lavishness excited Allan who was slowly floating into ecstasy; Guy was indifferent to the feast, seething with anger and thinking of Robin’s official pardon and his subsequent dispossession. He also wasn’t pleased that he had parted with Marian on bad terms before they had departed to London a week ago; she had been very angry and had blamed him for young Matthew’s murder.

"Hey, Guy, I am gonna say I love royal court. This feast is amazing," Allan said with a lazy smile.

Guy let out a small sigh. "I am glad that you are pleased, Allan.”

Allan laughed with true mirth. “Everyone in the great hall looks intensely pleased.” He brought a goblet of wine to his lips. “I am gonna play courtly games if we continue coming here.”

“Don’t think that we will be at court every month.”

“I know, mate.”

“This time, the sheriff wanted us to personally deliver the collected taxes to the prince’s treasurer only because Prince John urgently needed funds.” Guy sipped wine, grimacing as the tart, almost acid liquid flew down his throat. “I doubt that we will have to travel to London anytime soon.”

“It is a great pity! I would love to be here every week! I dream to live here!”

Guy looked disgusted. “Don’t you dare disregard your responsibilities or fail me, Allan. Your task is to carry out my commands and nothing else,” he said between gritted teeth. “I was very lenient towards you in the past weeks. You became too lazy.”

“Guy, you are talking like the sheriff,” Allan shot back, offended.

“Don’t compare me with Vaisey,” Guy hissed. “Never ever, Allan.”

A herald announced the prince’s arrival, and an absolute silence reigned in the great hall. Prince John appeared in the great hall in all his glory, surrounded by his noble attendants and numerous courtiers. The prince wore a royal purple brocade doublet with a high collar jeweled on its edges with rubies and diamonds, a white taffeta shirt, and flat purple brocade pants. As usual, the color of his luxurious attire stressed his pretentions for kingship during the absence of his brother in England.

The courtiers bowed to Prince John, ladies curtsied to him, hiding their smiles as the prince and his current beloved mistress made his way through the great hall to the main table. There were many beautiful ladies who trailed behind the prince’s mistress; they were her ladies-in-waiting. The prince had many mistresses and slept with many women, from servant girls to high-ranking noblewomen, disregarding the fact that a lady could have been a maid. John was an impenitent womanizer, like his father King Henry, and his hunger to sleep with many women was unlimited.

Prince John stopped near the main table, sweeping his eyes over the crowd of courtiers. Then he theatrically outstretched his arms, imitating a warm embrace of his people.

“My precious subjects,” John began, “today we are celebrating the birthday of one of my greatest friends, Sir Gerard de Camville.” He smiled with a haughty smile. “This banquet is going to be the example of all the future banquets worthy of me – King John I of England. My beloved lords and ladies, you are going to have many banquets like today’s feast at my court.”

The cheerful and almost wild cries of delight and pleasure arose around Guy on all sides. The courtiers again bowed deeply to the prince, ladies sank into curtsies. Prince John laughed at them and dismissed everyone from their curtsies. John made a small bow to everyone, as if he were thanking the audience for attention; then he made his way to the main table and seated himself on a dais raised above the crowd which trembled at his glance, and then gave the signal to continue feasting.

In the center of the main table, where Prince John and his closest entourage seated themselves comfortably, there was a small square fountain with eight tiers of carved wooden angels that rose high above the table. In the center of every other table, there was a great bowl containing apples, grapes, pears, strawberries, and many other fruits.

Trying to enjoy the feast and wishing to avoid thinking about his upcoming return to Nottingham, Guy slowly turned his gaze at the main table and nearly choked on his wine. He saw a beautiful young woman at the prince’s right side, understanding that she was the prince’s current beloved mistress. The lady was Lady Amicia de Beaumont, a widow of Sir Simon de Montfort, Lord of Montfort l'Amaury; she was an elder sister of Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester.

Gisborne knew that Prince John had many mistresses, and he met many of them at the court when he went there with Vaisey, but never, even in his wildest dreams, had he imagined that Amicia de Beaumont would ever become the prince’s whore. Amicia was the blood sister of Robert de Beaumont, King Richard’s grand favorite, his dear friend, and his staunch supporter, and the lady’s indiscretions with John, who dreamt of his brother’s death day and night, puzzled Guy a great deal.

Guy didn’t like even the single thought that Amicia slept with Prince John. He didn’t understand her motives for becoming John’s mistress, and he doubted that she had done that only out of love for the extravagant and lascivious prince. Guy just knew Amicia very well because they had gotten acquainted many years ago: they had had a love affair and had been friends in Normandy when Guy had lived there. She had been one of the few noblewomen who hadn’t mocked Guy for being a landless knight and had liked him for who he was.

The steel blue eyes swept over the great hall and stopped on Prince John who entertained the ladies, his lecherous eyes darting between beautiful female faces. And then he caught John’s eye on Amicia whose face Guy had often remembered in the moments of extreme loneliness.

Guy smirked at the thought that Lady Amicia hadn’t aged at all during the past thirteen years he hadn’t seen her. In fact, Amicia looked younger than her real age, and she was breathtaking and charismatic as she stared at Prince John with her large aquamarine eyes twinkling with imps of mischief. John was apparently besotted by his mistress, for he took a supreme effort to tear his gaze from her body and focus it on her face. Her lovely face interested every man in the great hall, and many courtiers, especially the prince, had an insane urge to taste her lips at a mere sight of her pretty face.

Amicia was young and beautiful. Her long, gleaming, raven hair was caught up in a pink plaid ribbon. Her chin was a bit protruding, and her brows were a shade lighter than her black hair, but altogether her face boasted an arresting charm. Her lips were a product of art – full, rosy, and so tempting. Her cheeks were delicately flushed, and the high waist of her silk pink and red gown, cut indecently low and adorned with a matching ribbon tied in a charming bow just beneath her breasts, drew men’s eyes to her firm little bosom. The front of her gown was ornamented with rubies and diamonds; the neckline was trimmed with lace and diamonds.

An interlude in the banquet followed, and stewards served more food and drinks.

Prince John eyed the courtiers. “My beloved subjects, I allow you to enjoy the banquet that I have prepared for you in all the ways you imagine to be enjoyable! Open your hearts to entertainment!” He smiled cunningly. “I hope you will love me more passionately after today’s banquet!”

“Thank you, Prince John!”

“Long live Prince John!” someone cried out.

“Long live King John,” Amicia de Beaumont corrected in a high voice.

“Long live King John!” the courtiers echoed.

Guy noticed that not everyone in the chamber was pleased with the cheerful cries and outbursts of joy in favor of Prince John. There were nobles who were reserved and obviously felt uncomfortable. Guy believed that they were King Richard’s loyal supporters.

Prince John took Amicia’s hand in his. “Oh, Amicia, my dear Amicia! I love you so much!”

“I love you, too, sire,” Amicia retorted with an enchanting smile.

“Enjoy, my subjects! Drink, eat, and love me!” John exclaimed.

At the prince’s encouragement, the guests at the banquet plunged into its most shameless entertainments, and wings of lewdness outspread themselves over the chamber. The banquet was something incredible: the courtiers lively chatted about everything and nothing, all tongues were at their freest, all imaginations ran wild, and all most wanton passions were at their height.

Sir William Marshal, the Earl of Pembroke, sat at Guy’s right side. “I am delighted to meet you, Sir Guy of Gisborne,” he said neutrally, his eyes taking in Guy’s black leather.

Gisborne turned his gaze at William Marshal. He had been always interested in Marshal, who had had nothing like Guy and had managed to rise from obscurity to one of the most powerful noblemen in England. He had served the old King Henry and later had pledged his allegiances to King Richard. He was the first man who had Marshal as a surname; before him, the hereditary title of "Marshal" had defined the head of household security for King of England. He had been elevated to the peerage and had become the first Earl of Pembroke through marriage and due to the second creation of that earldom.

Marshal wore a strict satin doublet of somber dark blue, black flat pants, and a black taffeta shirt; there were no embellishments and ornamentations on his clothes. He was a middle-aged man, but his body was still lean and hard. The first glints of silver had appeared in his hair, and his forehead had some traces of deep frowns, but his face wasn’t as wrinkled as that of his coevals. Marshal had married Lady Isabel de Clare, whose father had been Earl of Pembroke, and Marshal had acquired large estates and claims in England, Wales, Normandy and Ireland. He was approximately forty years than his seventeen-year-old Isabel before Richard’s departure on the Crusade. Despite large age difference with his wife, Marshal was a healthy, virile man, and he had several children with his young wife.

Guy sipped his wine. “Lord Pembroke, I am glad to meet you, too.”

“You haven’t changed at all since the last time I saw you at court,” William Marshal remarked, narrowing his eyes at Guy. “Do you take an example from Sheriff Vaisey in always wearing black?”

Guy placed an empty goblet on the table. “Let’s say I like this color, my lord.”

Marshal sipped wine from his goblet. “I know that Sir Robin of Locksley was reinstated as a nobleman. I was at court when Sir Roger de Lacy made the official royal proclamation in the presence of Prince John and many other nobles,” he said quietly, his tone cautious. “It is a great pity that you have to endure so many troubles, Sir Guy.”

Guy felt anger stirring in his heart. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.” He was amazed how calm his voice sounded despite his anger at any reminder of his recent humiliation.

Marshal gave him almost a paternal smile. “I meant no offense, Sir Guy. I knew your father, Sir Roger of Gisborne. He was a good man, though with his faults and weaknesses, like everyone. The tragedy that happened to him is not what I would wish anyone to feel.”

“You are most kind, my lord,” Guy said with gratitude.

“I want to give you one advice,” William Marshal said brusquely. “I have known Sir Robin of Locksley since his boyhood. He was an arrogant and pompous boy, but a good and kind-hearted boy too. And he has become a great man, honest and compassionate.” He paused, drinking wine.

“Sir William, I don’t want to listen to your lauding speeches about Robin of Locksley,” Guy snapped in an exasperated voice.

“In any case, I am going to say what I want, for you need to hear that,” Marshal said as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I advise you to reconcile with Sir Robin and King Richard. I am sure that Sir Robin will give you the Gisborne lands back if you side with the king.”

Guy’s eyes went wide. “You are a bold man, my lord.”

“I am a practical man in the first place,” Marshal contradicted, his eyes piercing Guy’s face. “I know that Prince John is very likely to become the king in the end.” He let out a sigh of frustration. “Unfortunately, King Richard has no legitimate children.”

“You don’t want Prince John to become the king, do you?” Guy approached his companion directly.

“We have to see. Everything changes,” Marshal replied diplomatically. “But I would love to delay this moment as much as it is possible. That’s why I am at King Richard’s side.”

“You used to be Prince John’s supporter in the first years after King Richard’s departure to the Holy Land,” Guy stated scornfully, a dark smirk forming in the corners of his lips.

William Marshal had been included in the Council of Regency which King Richard had appointed before his departure on the Crusade. Marshal had taken the side of Prince John, when the latter had expelled William de Longchamp from the kingdom. Yet, soon he had discovered that John had been planning to usurp power during his brother’s absence and perhaps even assassinate Richard. As a result, Marshal had joined the loyalists to the rightful King of England.”

William Marshal nodded. “I became Prince John’s supporter when I learned that King Richard was going to leave England for the Holy Land immediately after his coronation. The newly crowned king recklessly overturned King Henry’s government by firing experienced officials and giving their jobs to the highest bidders.” He paused, his eyes never leaving Guy’s face. “The taxes skyrocketed as our king was most obliging in relieving his nobles of wealth to finance the Crusade.”

Gisborne smirked darkly. “It is not a secret that King Richard regards England as nothing more than a source of revenue to fund the Crusade to rescue Jerusalem.”

Although he was eating and drinking with great appetite, from the corner of his eyes Allan watched the interaction between Guy and William Marshal. He didn’t dare intervene and utter a single word, for he understood nothing in politics, but he was genuinely interested in their conversation.

Marshal gave a wan smile. “And if King Richard returns to England, it is possible that taxes will be raised again. If King Philippe II of France continues to disturb the peace in Norman lands, Richard will need money to fund his campaign against France.”

“And you think that it is good that we can have the irresponsible king who doesn’t care for his nobles and people and who raises taxes only to finance his wars?” Guy questioned curiously.

“Yes, I do think so, Sir Guy.” Marshal inclined his head in confirmation.

“Explain, my lord,” Guy requested, puzzled.

“When Richard Plantagenet became the King of England, the nobles expected that he would be a more liberal and balanced sovereign than his father and elder brother,” William Marshal said quietly, his eyes darting between Prince John and Guy. “But it turned out to be an illusion, to the displeasure of many lords.” He sighed heavily. “Yet, Prince John is not the best alternative for us, lords and nobles.”

Guy stared at the older man with a challenge. “What are your arguments against Prince John?” He also had the same thoughts, but he had managed to put them aside. The pain of confusion bloomed through his heart, causing him to clench his fists, but he forced himself to relax and appear neutral.

Marshal smiled at the leather-clad man. “Look at what Prince John did and what he is doing.” His voice took a lower octave. “ _John has continued Richard’s line: he raised taxes in England to the level that we, the English nobles, cannot pay_. He also began to impose more oppressive taxation practices on his people and introduced the new ruthless methods of tax collection with the corresponding harsh punishment system. He even attempted to introduce mortgage in several shires in the north of England.”

“I am not going to make any comments on that,” Guy said neutrally. Yet, his heart was hammering harder; he knew that Marshal’s words were true.

“You know that I am right, Sir Guy,” Marshal said with anxiety in his eyes. “You are Sheriff Vaisey’s right-hand man. You know better than many other nobles in this hall that I am telling the truth.”

Guy glanced away, his throat tightened with emotion. “The taxes are very high. I cannot deny that.”

“Well, at least you find enough strength and honesty to recognize that,” Marshal retorted. “So far, the nobles, who side with Prince John, feign their indifference with respect to their diminishing wealth and power, but nobody knows how their allegiances will change next month or year.”

“I will say nothing more on the matter,” Guy repeated as he turned to face Marshal.

“You are entitled to behave in the manner of gross negligence and ignorance, Gisborne,” Marshal agreed. “And yet, you know that it is not the best course of action.”

Guy couldn’t deny that William Marshal was absolutely right. As the prince ordered to increase all the existing taxes, Guy and Allan spent all their time actively traveling between villages and terrorizing local populace, which had no funds left to pay. In the past few weeks, they had to use ruthless methods to collect money from the peasants and even some nobles; several lords ended up being dispossessed by the sheriff as they had no available funds to support even their own manors and provide for their families. Guy steeled his heart against familiar pleas and prayers not to take the last penny from a peasant family, for he had to do his duty to the sheriff and Prince John.

Guy knew that the taxes they had collected would be used by Prince John to finance the treacherous plots of the Black Knights – the Shah-Mat operation. Surprisingly, he felt his heart swelling with engulfing pain at the thought that all the funds would probably be wasted on nothing if Robin of Locksley had again thwarted the prince’s plans to overthrow King Richard. Guy had collected taxes and had dealt with impoverished noblemen before, but at present the situation was different: Prince John dispossessed some of the northern lords who had previously pledged their allegiance to him, but whom John chose to deprive of their lands in the cases when the same noblemen were unable to pay increased taxes. Guy believed that it was a threatening signal for nobles and lords.

With a sickening, heartbreaking certainty, Guy began to realize that even those who had once pledged their loyalty to Prince John could have lost everything if the prince had chosen to do that with regards to a particular noble family or if he had needed more taxes for his cunning plots and numerous lavish entertainments which he organized in London at his court.

All those suspicions stirred the demonic fury inside him, for he doubted that his loyalty to Vaisey and Prince John would give him what he craved to achieve most of all – to have the Locksley lands back once again. His mind raced through the events of the past weeks, trying to find solid proof that his suspicions might have been groundless, but he fell short of evidence amid the dispossession of the previously loyal lords before his eyes. Moreover, Prince John was beginning to experience some opposition regarding taxation policy from some of his loyal vassals in the north of England, and in the future, the resistance of nobles threatened to increase.

In those dark days, the peasants and the common people missed Robin Hood and his gang even more than immediately after Robin’s departure to Acre. The people needed hope to survive under the press of poverty, choosing to cling to the idea of Robin Hood’s altruism and invincibility as their saving grace in swirling inky darkness. The popularity of the bold outlaw, the uncrowned King of Sherwood, skyrocketed despite Robin’s absence in England, which enraged Prince John and Sheriff Vaisey. In the situation, when the very idea of Hood’s existence supported Robin’s rankings among the peasantry, Guy secretly laughed at the sheriff’s continuous attempts to tarnish his enemy’s reputation; he wasn’t happy with Hood’s new victory – he was pleased with the sheriff’s defeat.

§§§

Guy was brooding over his conversation with William Marshal. Marshal’s words seemed to have caught his breath. His was unable to deny what the man had told him the truth about Prince John’s policy in England, and his mind was racing through the facts about King Richard and Prince John. The edges of his political vision darkened and swayed in his mind.

He was frustrated. It appeared that the difference between King Richard and Prince John was not as significant as he had believed before. Richard Plantagenet began to strip the kingdom of its wealth. _During King Richard’s absence, John Plantagenet went further: he continued taking wealth from nobility and made a large new step to the complete financial ruin of England_. Guy’s loyalty to John was a dangerous thing, while loyalty to Richard was out of the question at all.

“I hope you are not offended, Sir Guy,” William Marshal said in a heartfelt voice.

Guy of Gisborne turned his gaze at him. “No, I am not, my lord.”

“I have wanted to talk to you for a long time, Sir Guy. I knew your father, and I liked him… until one moment.” The Earl of Pembroke could only shake his head. He stopped himself, not wishing to tell the young man about his father’s treason in the Holy Land that had caused the deaths of at least three hundred Norman knights. He didn’t wish to destroy the image of an ideal father in Guy’s mind.

Guy felt his body tense. “What?”

“Nothing, Gisborne, nothing,” William Marshal retorted with a small smile. “It is just that I am worried about you. You side with Vaisey whose very survival depends on…“ He stopped himself and lowered his voice. “Well, you know what the people are talking about; there are many rumors.”

“I have never been interested in rumors, Lord Pembroke,” Guy barked, irritated.

“Some rumors are very true,” Marshal pressed on. “I have to say that I am astounded, Gisborne. I have always considered you a rational and practical man.” He made a helpless gesture. “And yet, you cannot realize the difference between reasonable practicality and suicidal practicality.”

“What do you mean, sire?” Guy was confused.

“I mean that your decision to serve Sheriff Vaisey, whose survival depends on King Richard’s death, is stupid and suicidal,” the Earl of Pembroke explained his position. “Because I believe that it is better to side with the king who will eventually win. This is what I call being reasonably practical.”

Allan smiled at Marshal’s words, hoping that Guy would see the reason.

Guy stared at him, disbelieving. William Marshal was bold beyond any measure, but he was almost cunning and diplomatic; Guy understood why the man had managed to make an excellent career of a courtier in spite of his very humble origins.  “My lord, I am sorry for being blunt, but I myself know what to do. I don’t need your lectures.” His blood was seething with anger.

Marshal laughed at him. “Sir Guy, I am not insulted at all. No need to apologize,” he assured the other man. “But I am really astonished. Your head has never been full of illusions. You are not a dreamer, like Robin of Locksley who is dreaming of building the world that can exist only in his imagination.”

Guy threw his head and laughed. “Robin Hood is a fool and a criminal.”

Marshal smiled. “Sir Robin of Locksley is not a criminal, but a very honest man. His main problem is his idealism.” He raised a full goblet of wine to his lips. “As I said, I respect and admire Sir Robin. But his head is full of illusions. He needs to become more pragmatic and practical, and I truly hope that it will happen in the future.” He sipped some wine. “I know that King Richard cares very much for the young lad, and the lion has been trying for many years to make his bird more… down-to-earth. Our king succeeded, but only partly.” He emptied a goblet. “If Locksley became more practical, he would be a great politician, for he is a very conniving, intelligent, and clever man.”

Guy gazed around. “I don’t want to talk about Robin of Locksley,” he said, fearing that his emotions, his hatred for Robin, would overwhelm him even tonight when he wanted to relax.

As William Marshal caught Guy’s eye at Lady Amicia de Beaumont, he chuckled. Guy was staring at Amicia with curiosity and interest plainly written in his gaze. Allan also noticed that.

“Do you know Lady Amicia de Beaumont?” William Marshal inquired.

Guy opened his lips as though to reply; he felt the beads of perspiration on his brow. When he finally spoke, he was very pale. “I believe I have seen her at court several times.”

Marshal took on a smile of delight. "Lady Amicia is very well raised, a very dear girl. But I believe that her father, the old Earl of Leicester, had to take her in hand and gave her a better dose of polish. She had a fine foundation, but she lost herself in the great number of love affairs.” He chuckled. “Her beloved brother, young Robert de Beaumont, is a famous ladies man. His impudent and shameless behavior, especially his wretched habit… to regularly visit brothels, was not the best example for her.”

“Where did this beautiful lady have so many love affairs?” Allan broke in, curious.

“Allan!” Guy flashed a fulminating look.

Marshal laughed. “Ah, Sir Guy, it is fine! Let this handsome lad speak if he wishes.”

Allan flushed. “Well, I am sorry.”

“It is fine,” Marshal hurried to answer. “Lady Amicia was born in Leicestershire, but she grew up in Normandy and in Aquitaine. She married a Norman lord when she was very young, and she seemed… to have been deeply unhappy in her marriage.” He sipped wine. “Her husband didn’t care for her, and she was free to live at royal court in Aquitaine, even when he was still alive. At court in Poitou, she indulged herself into many pleasantries. And now she is with Prince John.”

“I would care for her if she were my wife,” Allan said, bewildered.

“Allan, that’s enough,” Guy reproached. “Please be silent.”

“Sir Guy, I agree with Master Allan,” Marshal said. “Let him speak if he wants.”

Guy gave Allan an ominous glance. “He can do whatever he wants. I don’t care.”

“Calm down, Sir Guy,” William Marshal said with a laugh, looking at Guy. “Do you not think Lady Amicia turned out to be well? She is beautiful, isn’t she?"

Guy's gaze strayed to Amicia as she walked to another table on the arm of the laughing Prince John, slowing her steps to match his. At that moment, Amicia glanced in his direction, and their eyes locked for an instant, but her face didn’t betray any recognition of Guy. Yet, Guy was sure that she sent him a tiny smile that warmed his heart.

"Lady Amicia is very beautiful,” Guy said nonchalantly.

Allan scanned the lady with his eyes, and grinned, revealing the interior of his wine-reddened teeth. “She is gorgeous. Prince John has an excellent taste in women.”

“Lady Amicia is an exquisite woman, still young, though she turned thirty this year,” Marshal retorted with a smile, seeming to assume Guy’s thoughts of today consisted of thoughts about the guests at the banquet. “But I didn’t expect that she would side with Prince John. She seems to have different political views from her far-famed brother – Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, who is King Richard’s beloved friend since he had turned thirteen, if my memory serves me well. It seems that they have opposite allegiances now.”

Guy turned to face Marshal. “When did she become the prince’s mistress?”

“If I am not mistaken, Lady Amicia de Beaumont has been in Prince John’s high favor for the last six years,” Marshal responded. “She often was at court and, of course, in the prince’s bedroom, but not as regular as it is happening now.” He took a full goblet of wine from the servant’s hands. “The prince is utterly smitten with her and makes her spend all the time at court. As Lady Amicia started spending a lot of time in London, she set up the prince’s court in the magnificent splendor, trying to make it similar to the Queen Mother’s court in Poitiers.”

Allan smiled. “So thanks to this lady we have such a great banquet?”

The Earl of Pembroke gave a nod. “Yes. She always organizes opulent feasts in the great hall. She helps the prince deal with the nobility and powerful earls of the realm. She advises him to spare nothing in terms of money and power in order to show how great he can be as King of England.” He laughed. “Sir Robert de Beaumont’s sister has interesting views.”

Guy knew that Amicia’s smiles and merriment were just a charade of a great actress. He didn’t know that she had become the prince’s lover so many years ago, but he suspected that she didn’t do that because she wanted to entertain John who wasn’t even her type of a man. The more he watched her, the more convinced he was that Amicia’s heart ached with boredom and misery.

Guy smirked. “I think she is simply in love with Prince John.” He didn’t say that he had no doubt that she was playing a spectacle, for she needed something from the prince.

“Oh, then I pity her!” Marshal laughed outright.

“Why?” Guy gave him a pointed look.

“Because Prince John has another great object of interest,” Marshal said with some bitterness in his voice. “He has been in love with every beautiful girl at court.” He sipped some wine. “Now he has another very mysterious mistress. The prince leaves London every two weeks and goes somewhere with his beloved friends Sir Gerard de Camville and Sir Jasper of Ashston. Everyone knows that the prince visits a woman; only de Camville and Ashton accompany him.”

“It is funny!” Allan let out a quiet laugh. “And nobody knows who she is?”

“We only know that her name is Isabella,” Marshal pointed out. “Nothing else.”

“So the prince has two mistresses,” Allan inferred as he placed a goblet of wine on the table.

The Earl of Pembroke chuckled. “Perhaps, even more than two. The prince has taken his… extremely passionate and virile nature after his father, the old King Henry.”

In a moment, the young attractive lady approached the table, and William Marshal rose to his feet, bowing to her and kissing her hand. She was Lady Isabel de Clare, Countess of Pembroke and Striguil in her own right, William Marshal’s wife.

Dressed in a modestly cut evening gown made out of violet, white and silver silk, Lady Isabel de Clare had a charming oval-shaped face that was arresting rather than classical. Her lips were a little thick, her forehead was very high, and the coloring of her skin was so exquisite; her whole appearance was one of quite a dainty charm. She was sweet-natured, generous, graceful of figure, and beautiful of face. She also was studious and very clever, and she presented such an excess of virtue that she could frighten many men with that. The courtiers called Lady Isabel _“the good, the fair, the wise, the courteous lady of high degree_.”

Guy gritted his teeth watching Marshal and his wife perform the necessary courtesies. Isabel curtsied, and Marshal bowed; they took their seats at the table and the earl served her some wine. Guy didn’t like watching all those formalities as he never liked the dull court protocol that had always reminded him of King Henry and the fact that he had once courted his mother before taking young Ghislaine to a royal bed.

Allan eyed William Marshal’s wife with interest. He didn’t like her appearance as he preferred more attractive and more seductively looking women, whom royal court boasted in abundance. Allan was tempted by the mere sight of Lady Amicia de Beaumont; he almost imagined her in his bed.

Lady Isabel de Clare, the Countess of Pembroke, turned her gaze at Guy, looking beautifully flushed, pouring red wine in her goblet. “Sir Guy of Gisborne, what a great surprise to meet you at today’s banquet! Welcome to Prince John’s court!”

Guy made an elegant bow and smiled at her. “Lady Isabel, I am pleased to see you, too.” His smile grew wider, and this time, it was a genuine smile. “I trust you are doing well. You are as beautiful and modest as one of the very few women at court, and it greatly pleases me to see this.”

Isabel shook her head and tried to smile. “Ah, Sir Guy, you are both diplomatic and straightforward! You can become a great politician!” She stared at her husband. “William, what do you think of this?”

Marshal took her hand in his and kissed it. “Oh, my dear, I have always known that you would become cleverer than all other noblewomen.” His gaze slid to Guy. “Sir Guy and I had talked quite a lot about politics before you came, Isabel.” He chuckled. “I believe Sir Guy can make a great career of a courtier and a politician as he is a ruthless and practical man, although he needs to make… some corrections in his tactic if he wants to climb higher and stay alive.”

A small silence hung over them. Guy did everything not to scowl at Marshal, who watched him from the corner of his eye and smiled at Guy’s barely hidden embarrassment.

Feeling uneasiness between them, Isabel decided to change a topic. “William, you exaggerate that I am cleverer than others ladies.” She smiled. “There are so many well-educated and beautiful ladies at Queen Eleanor’s court! The ladies from Aquitaine exceed many English noblewomen in their intellect, erudition, education, tastes for art and music, and, undoubtedly, independence.”

Marshal smiled at her. “But these Aquitanian damsels are so liberal and indulging in private life. Many of them are licentious, I am sorry for saying that.”

Isabel clapped her husband on his shoulder. “William, you are wrong!” she protested passionately. “Remember Lady Megan Bennet of Attenborough. She is such a beautiful, clever, independent, and well-educated lady, but she isn’t wanton at all.”

“Do you mean the only daughter of my dear old friend Sir Hugh Bennet of Attenborough?” William Marshal asked, hastily suppressing twitch of his lips.

Isabel nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh, I remember her very well,” Marshal answered. “Is she still unmarried? Does she continue rejecting all offers of outstanding marriages she received in the past several years?”

“Oh, yes, yes. She rejected many great marriage proposals,” Isabel replied with a large smile. “Lady Megan is so beautiful and so graceful that everyone looks at her in admiration. When men look into her deep blue eyes, they lose themselves in their depths.” She took a goblet of wine and sipped red spiced liquid. “But she is very independent. At times, I think that she doesn’t need a husband and a man at all to be happy.”

Guy was genuinely interested in the description of the lady; his eyes brightened a little. “I am sorry for asking, but how is that possible that a lady cannot find a husband at royal court in Poitiers?”

Isabel de Clare sniggered. “Sir Guy, you haven’t met Lady Megan. She is a unique lady,” she blurted out merrily. “She is not like many other ladies who grew up at court in Aquitaine. Deep in her heart, Megan knows that she can have a full, happy life with no man at her side, and this is what she has been doing in the past years. But, deep down, she aches for the passion and love she hasn’t found yet. She is just waiting for a right man to fall in love with.”

Guy smiled. “It is the best thing for an intelligent and decent lady.” His heart constricted in his chest at the thought that his wife, his Marian, hadn’t waited for such a man; on the contrary, she was so confused with her feelings that she had allowed herself to be attracted to both Guy and his childhood nemesis. Her affair with Robin was his damnation.

“I met Sir Hugh Bennet of Attenborough at the Council of Nobles once,” Allan broke in. “He lives at the Attenborough Hall in Nottinghamshire, in just two hours ride from Nottingham.”

“Exactly,” William Marshal said, a line of worry creasing his forehead. “Sir Hugh Bennet used to be Prince Richard’s loyal knight. He was born in Nottinghamshire, but he lived for many years in Aquitaine, serving Prince Richard. He retired when Richard ascended the throne and moved back to Nottingham.” He sighed. “Hugh is very loyal to King Richard. I was very worried about him. He is my close friend.”

For whatever reason, Guy felt that it was his duty to inform Marshal that Sir Hugh was coping well with Vaisey. “Lord Pembroke, don’t worry about your friend. He has been doing well throughout many years with the sheriff. He rarely attends the Council of Nobles after he had reported that he had suffered from the lingering old war wound injury.” He smiled weakly. “He always pays more taxes than the sheriff demands from the nobles in Nottinghamshire.” He chuckled. “Vaisey has absolutely no pretensions to him. He isn’t even planning to deal with him.”

“Sir Guy, thank you for sharing this information with me. You know why I am very worried about him,” William Marshal retorted with gratitude. “Please make sure that this good man will be fine. Do this for me and for his daughter, please.” His eyes almost pleaded the younger man.

Guy gave a nod; he understood. “Don’t worry. There are no reasons for that,” he repeated. “Sir Hugh Bennet never shows his true loyalty and has a very wise strategy. He once told Sheriff Vaisey that he would be loyal to the king or the prince – to any of them if he is left at his estates in peace. He said that he would always pay all taxes and levies, only asking in return to let him live the rest of his life in peace and undisturbed.”

Marshal looked at Guy with a scrupulous, attentive gaze. “You are a good man, Sir Guy,” he said sincerely. “Thank you for easing my fears about my friend.”

Guy shook his head. He was warmed by Marshal’s words up to his heart. “Welcome, Lord Pembroke.” He leaned in his chair, his eyes fixed on Amicia de Beaumont as she conversed with Prince John.

Like Guy, William Marshal watched Lady Amicia de Beaumont. His wife, Lady Isabel de Clare, also enjoyed observing the prince making compliments to Lady Amicia and whispering endearments into her ear. It was a material for a new gossip and also the way to understand what was going on at court. But gossip, of course, ran rife at any royal court. Important men and women, like William Marshal and his wife, were the object of gossip and chose to gossip about others as well.

“Ah, I am so pleased that Lady Megan Bennet of Attenborough left England several weeks ago,” Lady Isabel de Clare twittered, sipping red wine and looking around. “If she had stayed at court for a long time, she would have caught Prince John’s eye.”

William Marshal laughed. “If Lady Megan stayed here, she would have to deal not only with the prince but also with many cowardly gossiping dandies and ladies, whom the prince keeps around him and who stare at him in complete adoration and idolization.”

Guy was interested why Lady Isabel remembered Lady Megan Bennet so well. “I have never heard much about Lady Megan Bennet of Attenborough in Nottinghamshire.”

“And you won’t hear a lot about her,” Isabel said, sipping wine.

“Why?” Guy was curious.

Isabel gazed at the handsome dark-haired knight, smiling. “Lady Megan grew up at court in Poitiers when her father served Prince Richard. She is more Aquitanian than English in her habits and appearance. She doesn’t like England and English language, and she doesn’t want to return to Nottingham from Aquitaine.” She placed an empty goblet at the table. “Besides, Lady Megan is Queen Eleanor’s beloved lady-in-waiting and her confident. She is always at the Queen Mother’s side.”

Allan and Guy tensed at the unexpected news about the unknown lady’s allegiances. They both remembered Prince John’s secret mission they had failed to fulfill so far – to find the Queen Mother’s illegitimate son. They shared uneasy glances, but then relaxed, thinking that Lady Megan, even if she was Queen Eleanor’s confident, knew nothing about her mistress’ secrets.

“Ah, I see.” Guy gave a smile.

Isabel giggled. “Sir Guy of Gisborne, you are a married man,” she pointed out, her lips curving in a knavish smile. “If I didn’t hear about your marriage to Lady Marian of Knighton, I would think that you are looking for a bride at court.” She let out a laugh. “Of course, if you are not planning to see to the dissolution of your marriage.”

“I am not looking for anyone,” Guy replied dismissively.

Isabel ran her hand up to gently grasp a thick handful of her hair; she put it behind her ear. “Sir Guy, I think you would have found Lady Megan amazing. If you weren’t married, I would recommend that you ask Lady Amicia de Beaumont to introduce you to Lady Megan.”

Guy stiffened. “What does Lady Amicia, Prince John’s mistress, has in common with the virtuous and independent Lady Megan?” He sneered. “Of course, if she is as decent as you describe.”

"They are close friends despite a ten-year age difference between them. Lady Amicia also spent her early youth in Aquitaine, with her brother, the Earl of Leicester," Isabel de Clare explained, her expression serious. "And, Sir Guy, believe me, that Lady Megan is as unique as I described. I have no use for lying."'

“I am sorry,” Guy said apologetically.

Marshal’s wife smiled. “That’s alright.”

Marshal looked at his wife, and his face lit with a smile. “I remembered one interesting thing!”

Isabel stared at her husband, curious. “What, William?” She laughed. “You look as if you had just made a great revelation that you want to share with us!”

Marshal smiled. “This is what I want to do,” he began.

Guy and Allan stared at Marshal with interest.

“I remembered another extremely interesting southern lady,” Marshal said emphatically. “She is _a queen of doom, beauty, and wit_.”

“This is a fabulous description,” Allan said with a laugh; he had already been not entirely sober. “The queen of death and beauty! She must be a frightening lady!”

Guy shot his right-hand man a murderous glare. "Allan," he threw over his shoulder, crossly.

“What?” Isabel gripped his forearm. “Tell us, William! Don’t make us wait!”

Marshal laughed softly in the darkness. “It is not possible to keep anything from you, Isabel.” His laughter faded and his face grew pensive as he stared into the emptiness of the room. “I mean Lady Melisende Plantagenet, Countess de Bordeaux.”

Isabel’s eyes sparkled. “Lady Melisende is the most beautiful woman in the Angevin Empire!” There was a mixture of envy, amazement, and admiration, if not idolatry, in her eyes. “Lady Melisende is extraordinarily beautiful, serenely and fatally. Last year, I saw her at Château de Chinon in Anjou when court was there, and she looked breathtakingly beautiful and coldly regal; there has always been something unearthly in her beauty.” She smiled dreamily. “Every time I see her, I imagine a mysterious, beautiful and immortal Goddess, dressed in shimmering violet gazes, the gold wreath of a queen adorning her luxurious, glossy and long red-gold hair.”

“A very accurate summary,” Marshal agreed. “I have always been impressed by Lady Melisende.”

Allan nearly choked on his wine. “I am intrigued. Who is this lady?”

“Allan, didn’t you hear that she belongs to the Plantagenet family?” Guy was irritated.

“Lady Melisende is the first cousin of King Richard and Prince John,” William Marshal explained. “She has always been very close to King Richard and Princess Joan, closer than with anybody else in the Plantagenet family. At the same time, Prince John loves Lady Melisende more than he has ever loved anyone of his legitimate sisters.” He smiled. “Many powerful lords and noblemen, both in the Angevin Empire and abroad, wanted to marry Lady Melisende, but King Richard and Queen Eleanor didn’t permit that to happen.”

“Prince John loves her?” Guy was surprised; he thought that John loved nobody and nothing, except for power and money, not speaking about his cousins and sisters.

“The prince respects, admires, and fears Lady Melisende. Let’s say he loves her more than his other relatives,” William Marshal explained. “He fears her because Lady Melisende is like Eleanor of Aquitaine in her intellect, beauty, education, erudition, wit, ability to rule, and also potential for ruthlessness.” He took a full goblet from a steward, then sipped wine. “And now King Richard is arranging her marriage to one of his high-ranking lords, which puzzles the prince.”

“Bless my heart!” Isabel’s mouth gaped open for an instant as her scrupulous mind was working. “Prince John must be very anxious about the king’s choice of a husband for Lady Melisende. It will mean a lot for the political situation in Aquitaine and in the southern lands of the Angevin Empire.”

“Lady Melisende traveled to Acre from Bordeaux; she departed about six months ago,” Marshal informed. “The gossip is floating that King Richard plans to marry his cousin off to one of his loyal knights in Acre.” He sighed. “It will reshape the political situation in Aquitaine.”

Guy’s eyes gleamed hard as diamonds; he was worried about Prince John’s plans to establish alliances with Poitevin vassals. “A marriage in Acre for the king’s cousin? I think it is impossible.”

“I believe it is exactly what is going to happen,” Marshal retorted with a crafty smile. “Think about the allegiances, Sir Guy. I told you who would win in the end.”

Gisborne looked down at the table; there was only a small piece of fish left in his platter. William Marshal’s words were racing through his mind once more, and hopelessness began to surround his thoughts. He knew that strategic political marriages to the men loyal to King Richard would weaken Prince John’s support in the south of the Angevin Empire. Richard was making sound and wise political decisions, which made Guy doubt that the king indeed was as foolish as he had thought of him before.

“I believe that Lady Melisende would be married off to the Earl of Leicester, the Earl of Huntingdon, the Earl of Oxford, or the Earl of Albemarle,” Isabel de Clare speculated.

Marshal laughed as he stared fascinatingly at his wife’s lovely face. “And I think that there are only two options – the Earl of Leicester or the Earl of Huntingdon.”

At the sound of Robin’s name and title, Guy and Allan snapped their heads to the Earl and the Countess of Pembroke. They stared at the two courtiers as if they were mesmerized.

“Oh, then I would say that it would be the Earl of Leicester,” Isabel purred. “Lady Melisende and Leicester have been friends for a long time.” She flushed. “Leicester has been very fond of her.”

“My dear, I have to disappoint you. I think that it will be the Earl of Huntingdon,” Marshal parried. “Robin Hood’s marriage to Lady Melisende looks quite extraordinary but not unexpected. It would be very useful for both King Richard and Huntingdon himself. Given how our king cares for Huntingdon and that Sir Robin had rebelled against Prince John in England, I am sure that our liege would arrange this marriage for him to protect him from the prince by allying his grand favorite with the royal family.”

Isabel’s eyes danced with excitement. “Oh, that would be amusing if Leicester and Huntingdon are in competition!” Her charming dimples came out as she laughed. “I have always liked these two men – intolerable, impudent, cheeky, handsome, charming, conniving, brave, honest, and irresistible.”

“I don’t think that they will be in competition,” Marshal retorted. “They will obey King Richard whom they love and worship.” He smiled. “These two cheeky rogues have been close friends since early youth. They are like a hand and a glove. They will never part because of any woman. You will see.”

“Yes, you are right. The king’s word will be final for them,” Isabel agreed.

Guy leaned back in his chair, brooding in a silence as Marshal and his wife continued gossiping. For a moment, he allowed himself to sit in quiet contemplation, for he received interesting information about the events at court and lives of nobles. Then he leaned over the table and started talking to Allan about their upcoming departure to Nottingham.

§§§

Guy of Gisborne was tired of listening to the gossip spread by William Marshal and his wife Isabel. He rejoiced when the lady excused herself and went to her friend on the opposite side of the great hall. For some time, Guy watched the ladies sitting at the main table and batting their eyes at Prince John. Their interactions with John reminded him of the lovely bootlickers in the image of decent noblewomen who were flattering and singing glorifying songs about the prince; then they bedded him, trying to get advancement for their families and themselves.

Allan was overwhelmed with merriment and joy, and a lazy smile played in the corners of his mouth. “I like court so much. I like eating delicious food and dancing the night away in the chamber flooded with light. I would love to enjoy this everlasting festivity forever."

Guy gave Allan a scornful glare, then gazed away. Instead, he gazed at Lady Amicia de Beaumont and kept staring at her. He was absorbed in his thoughts. He saw Amicia smiling seductively at Prince John and enthusiastically talking to him about something. His former fears returned to haunt him. Confused by Amicia’s plans, he observed her with the prince for half an hour, and the more he watched, the more he doubted she liked being at John’s side.

Gisborne let his eyes wander around the banqueting hall, looking for the Black Knights – the Earl of Buckingham, the Baron of Rotherham, the Earl of Durham, and the Earl of Spenser. He wondered why he hadn’t seen them among the guests. Remembering his unexpected meeting with Buckingham in the sheriff’s study room when the Earl had arrived hooded to keep his visit secret and the last meeting of the Black Knights in London, he thought that Prince John might have sent them on a new errand to establish more alliances against King Richard with Norman and Poitevin vassals, turning them against the king. He didn’t know that the Black Knights were on their way back from Acre after they had failed to kill the king in the massacre in the Crusaders’ camp.

Guy stared at Marshal. “Lord Pembroke, have you seen Buckingham, Rotherham, Durham, and Spenser at court? I cannot find them in the great hall. Are they here?”

William Marshal grimaced. “I have never liked them.”

“Are they attending the banquet?” Guy repeated his question, trying to keep his voice calm.

“No, they are not here,” Marshal said, shaking his head. “In fact, I haven’t seen them for more than many months. I am astounded that they have left Prince John. They are usually buzzing about him like bees to honey.”

Allan felt the danger. “I think they are in their estates. Taxes are getting higher and higher. They need to take care of their deals in order to be able to pay taxes and please the prince.” He tried to drive Marshal’s thought in another direction.

“Who knows?” Marshal shrugged.

Guy left Allan as Sir Jasper of Ashton approached them and requested a minute of privacy. They went to the corridor and exchanged a couple of words about Prince John’s instructions regarding the next collection of taxes. Then Sir Jasper clapped Guy on his shoulder and returned to the great hall.

Guy paused near the door, intending to follow Jasper. He was about to open it when he heard a familiar female voice behind his back. He recognized the voice in an instant – the voice that he hadn’t heard for so long. Then he swung around to face the woman whom he knew for so long.

“Guy of Gisborne!” the lady spoke in English, which was the most widely spoken language at Prince John’s court. “What a great surprise to see you at Prince John’s court!”

Guy’s lips curved in a small smile. “Lady Amicia, I am pleased and surprised!” He bowed deeply to her.

“I haven’t seen you for ages, my dear dark knight!” Amicia exclaimed as she stopped beside him. “You are still as handsome as ever, Sir Guy! And your most singular solemn disposition hasn’t changed at all!” Her eyes traveled along his broad shoulders and his wide chest, over his imposing figure dressed in black leather she had liked him wearing years ago. “You are still wearing black leather! You are the same Hades, the god of the underworld!”

Guy continued to stare at her in stunned beguilement. “I haven’t expected to meet you here, Lady Amicia. I thought that you were in Aquitaine or in Normandy throughout all these years.”

She made a face. “Since my beloved brother departed to the Holy Land more than seven years ago, I have much work in England. I have to administer the deals of his earldom and all his estates. Now I spend much time in Leicestershire, as well as at my brother’s estates in Normandy and Aquitaine.”

“Of course, I understand.” Guy didn’t like being reminded of her connection to the Earl of Leicester.

She smirked. “I beg my pardon. I know that my blood ties to the de Beaumont family remind you of my beloved brother and his best friend Robin of Locksley.”

“Ah, Amicia, you haven’t changed – as witty and sarcastic as always.”

“Of course, Guy.”

He arched a brow. “I have heard that you are Prince John’s mistress.”

The royal lover laughed. “Everyone around knows about that.”   

Guy leaned closer to her. “How did you come to be the prince’s lover?”

Amicia tilted her head. “Why do you care?”

He sneered. “Holy mother of God! The Earl of Leicester’s sister is Prince John’s mistress!”

She feigned innocence. “Amazed?”

“I am amazed beyond any measure,” Guy confirmed. “The Earl of Leicester is King Richard’s grand favorite, while you are Prince John’s mistress!” His lips curved in a lethal smile. “There is a conflict of loyalties in the de Beaumont family.”

She shrugged. “Well, does it really matter?”

“Amicia, I know you too well,” he said in a lower voice, implying that she had her stealthy motives. “What game are you playing?” He spoke very quietly to avoid being eavesdropped.

“Nothing, Guy,” Amicia said coldly, her tone dismissing any further questions from his side. “I am sorry. Prince John is waiting for me. I have to go.” She curtseyed to Guy. Then she turned around and stalked towards the main table where Prince John was entertaining with many beautiful ladies as he sat between them, taking their hands in his own in turns and laughing with them.

Guy took a goblet of red wine from the steward who was carrying a silver tray with three types of wine. Slowly drinking his wine, he was watching the courtiers, his mind trying to estimate how much money Prince John had spent on the banquet, and the number seemed disastrous.

Guy sighed. There was a sordid feeling in his heart for a strange reason – that the last pennies, which he had taken away from the peasants in Nottinghamshire, were used by the prince to finance his wasteful, excessive, lavish, spendthrift, and imprudent,  lifestyle with his numerous mistresses and occasional lovers. His mind drifted back to Locksley and the Earldom of Huntingdon, where the people were enjoying granted tax holidays for one year by King Richard himself and where the people didn’t suffer as much as in other English villages and towns did. Oddly, Guy didn’t feel angry that at least someone was free from the prince’s unbearable taxation policy for some time, even if those people lived on Robin’s lands.

The banqueting went on and on, nobody seeing a reason to abandon food and drink and festivities too soon. So many toasts were drunk to Prince John that Guy felt dizzy with wine and disgust. He spoke to so many people that he quickly lost track of whom he talked to and what he said. He spoke to Prince John himself who mocked him and was rather cold with him; John didn’t favor Guy very highly. Guy rejoiced that at least the prince didn’t humiliate him as much as he had done last time during their private audience. In the end, he was so tired of the noise, idle talk, and music that he could only babble incoherently, hoping that his utterances made sense.

Guy returned to his table and seated himself next to Allan. Allan’s eyes met Guy’s for a brief moment, and then Guy glanced away. Guy felt as if his eyes were not large enough to take in all the detail of the banquet. It was like having a serving dish piled high with so many delectable foods that just by looking you could almost lose your appetite.

“It is an amazing banquet, isn’t it? Prince John is mightily pleased,” William Marshal noted.

“Indeed,” Guy said automatically.

“I am gonna say it is the best feast I could dream about,” Allan broke in. He took a swallow of the rich red wine and felt it burn down his gullet, leaving a tannic and repugnant coating on his tongue. “But wine is definitely very far from the best I tried.”

“And where did you try better wine?” The corners of Guy’s lips quirked in a bemused smile.

“I mean the wine we took from the cellars in Locksley,” Allan responded.

Marshal laughed. “Well, it is not a surprise that Robin of Locksley has fantastic taste in wine. After all, he has been at King Richard’s side since he turned fifteen years old.”

“Thank you. I don’t need more wine.” The association with Locksley and Robin sent Guy further into the depths of his private insecurity. He returned his full goblet of wine to the servant who passed the table. He hesitated, glancing around. “I have drunk enough. I am going to retire for the night.”

Guy got to his feet and bowed to the Earl of Pembroke, then nodded at Allan, signaling that he was leaving. He strode towards the door, passing by laughing and chatting courtiers and having no interest to stay in the great hall anymore. He planned to leave for Nottingham tomorrow in the early hours of the morning. He had nothing else to do in London as they had delivered the collected taxes and the prince gave him no more new tasks. He intended to have some rest before his departure.

Gisborne slipped out of the crowd unnoticed. Hardly had he stepped out of the great hall when he stumbled into one of the stewards carrying a tray with candied fruits and pancakes. He cursed, looking at his dirty leather jacket; he would have punched the clumsy man on the spot if there hadn’t been so many people around. Instead, he hurried to disappear and marched away, admiring the elegant interior around and heading to his own chambers.

Guy was so wrapped in his thoughts that he missed his turn left into another corridor and instead kept going ahead. An invisible hand guided him through a maze of corridors, empty and illuminated by the flickering orange flames from torches that hung on the walls. He passed through shadowy corridors and up winding stairways, then making his way through luxurious room after room, the Tower of London unfolding like a fabulous jewel box.

Soon he lost his way. He stopped in one of the corridors, looking around. In the crimson light of the flames from the few burning torches, his large frame cast a tall, dark shadow on the wall. He looked ahead, his gaze stopping at the arched window that faced the gardens. There was no moon at all, and the night settled thick and dark, so that he wouldn’t have been able to walk if there hadn’t been a few torches in the corridor.

The noises of the banquet slowly faded until Guy could hear nothing but his own breathing and the wild thundering of his heart. He swept his eyes over his surroundings, trying to understand in which part of the Tower he was. Outside, he heard the night guard change on the battlements – the distant sound of laughing voices and the tramping of heavy boots. That meant that it was already midnight, and he sighed, thinking that he had spent too much time on the banquet.

Suddenly, Guy saw a dark shadow that emerged in the end of the corridor and quickly vanished in the next silent corridor. Puzzled, he advanced forward, straining his ears to hear the slightest noise. Guy stopped as he noticed a dark shadow moving along the wall; then he heard receding footsteps, light and adroit. At last, a louder noise – a boot scuffing against the floor – came from the hallway. Then, there was an absolute silence.

Guy of Gisborne was confused. He thought that he was hallucinating and heard strange noises that were a product of his imagination. He must have been simply tired or a little inebriated. He shook his head, puzzled and intending to leave the corridor.

Suddenly, Guy again heard the sound of retreating footsteps, and then someone rose in the darkness, casting a shadow on the wall. He saw the person drawing a sword and moving to the door; then the figure stopped and peered through a spyhole in the wall. He came closer and saw that the shadow became a hooded figure with a light French sword. 

His breath was taken away when the spy removed the hood and tossed her head. The delicate black curls framed a pale face with aquamarine eyes – Lady Amicia de Beaumont’s face. He felt as though he had gone mad. He froze, staring stupidly at the lady who was listening to someone’s conversation in the nearby room. Suddenly, the realization dawned upon him: Amicia stood near Prince John’s library where the prince spent much time, reading various books, which he had at the Tower in abundance.  

All of a sudden, one guard appeared in the corridor and walked towards the place where Amicia was hiding. As the man noticed her, he gave a loud war cry and attacked from the back. Guy watched in horror as the man raised his sword and lunged at Amicia, trying to stab her by catching her off-guard. Instinctively, Guy drew his own sword, but then he paused, waiting.

Amicia reacted immediately and turned back to face her attacker. The guard’s face twisted in disbelief as he recognized Prince John’s mistress who must have been with John in the library, in the great hall, or in the bedroom. The man was so amazed that he wanted to say something but his voice failed him.  He had no further chance to speak as Amicia lunged at him with her French sword and gave him a scarlet grin from ear to ear, expertly slicing his neck. The men gave a howl of pain and gurgled with blood, then tumbled to the ground.

Amicia covered her head with her hood, and, not waiting for another minute, strode forward, disappearing into the darkness behind the corner. Then, two more guards ran to the sound of the dead man’s cry. As they saw the corpse on the floor, they looked around, their eyes frantic.

Suddenly, the hooded figure emerged from behind the corner. Not wasting more time, the spy made a fierce assault on the guards, swinging her sword in the air in a deadly arc and plunging her sword into the first guard’s chest. The man cried out in pain and fell dead to the floor.

The second guard rushed forward to her, but Amicia adroitly stepped aside. Their blades crossed, and they exchanged a pair of diagonal blows. She swung her sword against the side of the guard’s head with every ounce of strength she could muster. The blade struck him on the temple, and she felt his skull shudder; she struck him again, and this time the sword fell against his neck and severed his head. Blood cascaded down the man’s corpse, and his head dropped on the floor.

Guy stood watching Amicia in horrified fascination. He was shocked with the brutality of her actions towards the guards and the fact that she had just murdered three men in the savage fight at the Tower of London. He was genuinely impressed with her swordplay, thinking that not every man could fight with such grace, skill, and fierceness, which were the elements of Amicia’s sword fighting style. He watched her closing the door with spyholes and covering the traces of the caused mess.

Amicia extracted a large purse from the pocket of her coat, and then another one; she crouched and put those purses on the floor, next to the corpses of the guards. She opened one of the purses and pulled out jewelry and numerous coins, hastily throwing them around.

Guy understood that she was covering the traces of her espionage work, planning to mislead other guards who would disclose the three corpses soon. Everything was simple: the scene would resemble classic robbery of someone by the guards who had stolen the treasures and then had failed to divide them. As the three guards were dead, it would be assumed that several more thieves had murdered them and then had run away with the rest of the stolen things.

Amicia straightened her spine and rushed to the end of the corridor. Guy followed her, accelerating his footsteps and trying to walk as quiet as he could. He turned to another corridor, but there was no one there. He swung around, his eyes wandering in the emptiness, and then another noise came – the rustling of fabric from the alcove in the end of the corridor.

Guy crossed the dark corridor in two strides and paused, his eyes taking in the slender and tall female figure so close to him. The picture before his eyes made his blood boil both in fear and rage.

Lady Amicia de Beaumont opened the window. She extracted two parchments tied up with crimson silk ribbons. Guy saw Amicia unfold one parchment, and in the dim light from the distant torch he distinguished sophisticated diagrams and bits of tidy writing. Guy heard quiet twittering and lowered his head, his gaze fixing on a small golden cage with a small bird inside. The bird looked so much like Lardner – a Sultan's prized bird, whom the sheriff believed to have killed in the forest.

Guy observed Amicia open the cage and take the bird in her hands. She folded two parchments and tied them together with the ribbons. Then she placed the parchments into the small purse and tied it under the bird’s neck. She looked out for only a moment before hurrying back to the cage and taking the bird in her hands. Then Amicia approached the window and released the bird from her hands; she encouraged the bird with a quiet command in a guttural language, and it flew away.

“Amicia,” Guy whispered. “Interesting evening, my lady.”

Prince John’s mistress turned around in shock. “What… are you doing here?”

Guy made a step towards her and paused, his hand on the hilt of his broadsword. “Have you gone completely mad? Do you understand what you are doing?”

“I am not out of my mind,” Amicia snapped angrily. “What are you doing here?”

“I lost my way in the corridors,” Guy replied flatly, her eyes never leaving her face. “Accidentally, I discovered you in the place where you killed three guards and then staged robbery incident as if it were organized by the dishonest guards.” He smirked. “This is quite proficient. I am really impressed.”

Amicia raised her chin. “And what are going to do? Will you hand me to Prince John?”

“I won’t do that,” Guy said resolutely. “I don’t want you dead.”

She still didn’t remove her hood. “But you will demand that I do something in return.” She gave a cold laugh. “I know you. You are too practical to do something too noble.”

Guy looked offended. “Many years ago, you told me that my heart was noble.”

She nodded. “I did, and I still want to think so.”

Guy eyed her. “So you are King Richard’s personal spy and Prince John’s mistress,” he asserted. “There could have been no better cover for your treacherous activities.”

“I am not a traitor,” she hissed. “Someone else is a traitor.”

“You mean me?”

“Of course, Guy. You are a traitor to King Richard.”

“Very well,” Guy said briefly. “How did you end up in Prince John’s bed?”

Amicia put her hands on her hips. “It is out of your business!”

“A small mistake _, chérie_ ,” Guy corrected. “Now it is my business as I have discovered you.” And he sighed deeply. “I watched you during the evening. I know that you are not as fond of Prince John as everyone thinks. You are a great actress, but I know you too well, my lady.”

“Fine. You are right,” Amicia conceded with a sigh. “I am the prince’s mistress, but not because I want to be in his bed. John wooed me, and I resisted his advances, but you know these royals… You of all the people know that it is impossible to reject kings and princes.”

Guy gave a solemn nod. “Yes, I know.” He drew a deep breath. “My mother…”

“So what do you want for your silence?” Then she closed the window, then turned to face him.

“Amicia, I know that you sent a message to King Richard. Tell me what you sent to him.”

Amicia laughed. “Never ever. You may kill me, but I will tell you nothing.”

“Tell me,” he reiterated insistently.

“Never ever, even if you run me through with your sword,” Amicia declared. “You are Sheriff Vaisey’s right-hand man. I know that Prince John craves to become the king, and Lord Vaisey is one of his most loyal supporters. Clearly, you are siding with Vaisey and John.”

Guy eyed Amicia suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at her. “Dangerous speeches…”

“Really? Not as dangerous as your treacherous allegiances are,” she taunted.

Guy made a step towards her and roughly grabbed her wrist. She gave a startled squeak and then scolded him, but he ignored her angry exclamation. He hastily removed her cloak and crumpled it in his left arm; his right arm clasped her wrists. He stripped her of her disguise, so that they could walk in the corridors, not attracting unnecessary attention to them in case they met someone. Then Guy roughly pulled Amicia to himself and started dragging her along the semi-dark corridor. She barely had time to grab an empty golden cage.

“Have you lost your way?” Amicia asked curiously.

“My bedchamber is on the second floor, near the royal chapel,” Guy answered. “Sir William Marshal’s apartment is just near mine.”

“I know where it is. Follow me,” Amicia said in a commanding voice.

Guy released her, and Amicia led him through the maze of corridors and past many guest chambers. They reached a spiral staircase and descended one floor, then turned right and passed through another long corridor. Everything was empty and silent around them. The glowing orange light from a few burning torches filled the corridors.

“Hurry up. We cannot be seen,” Guy said hoarsely.

“Don’t worry. Nobody will see us.”

“You thought the same when I saw you by chance.”

She gave him a nonchalant smile. “It was different before,” she said softly as she began to descend a staircase. “Here you even don’t hear the noises of the banquet. Many of the guests are drunk now and are actually noisy, but you still don’t hear them.”

Guy gave her a sidelong glance. “Why is that?”

Amicia laughed. “As you see, there are very few people in this part of the Tower. There are even no guards here. Trust me that nobody will discover us here at this late hour.”

"Amicia!" he said, with a gentle surprise in his tone. "I don’t want any more problems today!”

“I know this palace as if I were born here,” she said laughingly. "Come, my dear Guy, come. Trust me.”

As the laughing easiness in her voice fell on his ears, and Guy felt something like thankfulness welling up in his heart, as if she had breathed into him a strange lightness he hadn’t felt for so long. There was that kind of airy lightness about Amicia which many others had felt in the presence of Robin Hood and her younger brother, the Earl of Leicester, whom he remembered quite well, and, for a split second, he felt relieved and at peace with the world that was aspiring towards causing his demise. Amicia put her hand into his, this time trustingly, and they went along the narrow corridor together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we have spoilers from season 2 and season 3. They are Legrand’s death at Vaisey’s hand and the reference to the angry villagers who were detained to be sold to Finn MacMurrough as the sheriff must raise more money for the Black Knights.
> 
> The sheriff kills Legrand in a fierce fight as it happened on the show in episode 12 of season 2. Even the scene of Legrand’s death mirrors the scene of his death on the show. Legrand gives Allan a secret message from Robin, so Allan is given a good chance to be pardoned by King Richard and redeem himself in the eyes of Robin and the outlaws.
> 
> Hope you liked the description of the banquet at Prince John's court – an opulent and lavish banquet organized in Prince John’s typical style. Guy’s political conversation with William Marshal is necessary to make Guy more disillusioned with Prince John’s policies in England, so that he can begin to realize that his loyalty is misguided. Marshal talks to Guy everything straightforwardly: Guy is serving the wrong person whose survival depends on Prince John’s fickle favor and King Richard’s death – Vaisey.
> 
> The mentioned facts about William Marshal, the Count of Pembroke, and his wife, Lady Isabel de Clare, are historically correct. The characterizations of King Richard’s taxation policy and Prince John’s policy of the same kind are also historically correct.
> 
> Lady Amicia de Beaumont, a widow of Sir Simon de Montfort, Lord of Montfort l'Amaury and an elder sister of Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, is a real historical character. She was the grandmother of Simon de Montfort, 6th Earl of Leicester, who is infamous for turning against King Henry III of England and leading the rebellion against the king during the Second Barons' War of 1263–1264, subsequently becoming de facto the ruler of England. It is also well-known that Simon de Montfort secretly married Eleanor Plantagenet, Henry III’s sister.
> 
> Prince John has another mistress – the mysterious Isabella. Do you know who the lady is in reality?
> 
> Lady Megan Bennet was mentioned by William Marshal and his wife. Megan will appear in the next chapter as a one-episode character, but then it will disappear again. She will re-appear in the middle of part 2 “Mysteries Unveiled”, and she will play an important role in this story on the stage of King Richard’s captivity.


	16. A Glimpse of the Past

**Chapter 16**

**A Glimpse of the Past**

Guy and Amicia stopped near the door of Guy’s bedchamber. Guy opened the door and ushered Amicia inside, shutting the door behind them. From the cold and detached expression on his face, nobody would have guessed his inner turmoil as he walked across the room and took a seat in a chair near the fireplace, signaling her to take a seat on a nearby armchair.

Amicia placed an empty cage on the floor near her armchair. Guy threw her cloak in the corner of the room; he had carried her cloak after he had stripped her of her disguise, and now he was pleased to finally get rid of it. They settled comfortably in high-back armchairs covered with dark yellow brocade, and their eyes met. She smiled at him tensely, and he shook his head disapprovingly in response.

Guy averted his eyes, unable to hold her piercing gaze. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rude.”

“You are being most kind,” she said sarcastically.

“You are wrong there. I am not a kind person,” he amended. “At least, not usually.”

“I agree. You are a detestable and angry person, yet the same bad boy who once made me feel dizzy,” Amicia retorted, smiling wryly and trying to speak with careless ease. “Your anger is like temptation. It can be so unpredictable and strike without warning, you know, so the sooner we walk away, the safer you are.”

“There is truth in what you say. I am not an easy person to deal with.”

Amicia gave a hollow laugh. “Guy, you haven’t changed at all.”

“And neither have you, Amicia.”

“First impression may be deceptive.”

“So, you are a professional spy!” He looked wonder-stricken.

She tilted her head to one side. “Yes, I am.”

He smiled ever so slightly. “I have to say that you are a consummate actress.”

“I am glad that you rate my talents so highly.” She let out a proud and haughty smile.

Guy narrowed his eyes at her. “Now tell me, Lady Amicia de Beaumont, how long have you been King Richard’s spy at court?” he asked bluntly. “Who is your contact in the Holy Land? Is he your dear heroic brother or King Richard himself?”

Guy was right. Amicia’s prime contact was King Richard himself. She sent her codified messages either to Richard through birds, like Larder, or through Sir William de Longchamp. She maintained constant correspondence with her brother Robert through birds as well.

Her spine was as rigid as the back of her chair. “It is not your deal.”

“You are not going to tell me anything, are you?”

“Of course, I will keep silent. I told you that you can take my life, but you will learn nothing.”

“I know.” Guy shivered, for her words were a blow to his pride. He wasn’t going to kill her. He could never harm her after the kindness she had displayed him with when others had mocked and had hated him in Normandy.

Amicia stared at him, her head tilted to one side, her aquamarine eyes blazing with fire. “Now, Guy of Gisborne, tell me one thing. Are you going to kill me or not?”

“You are still as willful and bold as you have always been,” Guy agreed diplomatically. “One day this willfulness may play a bad joke with you, Amicia.” He leaned back in his seat. “You know that if I had found someone else spying on Prince John, you would have already been dead.”

She pursed her lips. “Thank you for not depriving me of a chance to see another day.’”

“Welcome.” His voice was cold.

Amicia shook her head. “I don’t know whether we are friends or enemies now.”

Gisborne gave the raven-haired lady an assessing look, but then he sighed. “I don’t want to be your enemy.” Another sighed followed. “Once you were my friend… and someone else.”

Amicia granted him a long, searching look. “Guy, I don’t want to be your enemy either.” She smiled cordially, her smile so different from the fake smiles she had flashed for Prince John during the banquet. “I haven’t forgotten you, but you seem to have forgotten me.”

“No, I haven’t. I have always remembered you,” he confessed. “You were one of the few people who treated me much better than others. I will be forever grateful to you for that.”

Amicia grinned at him, her eyes alight with excitement. “Of course, you remember me. You can never forget how much I honored you. I was one of the very few noblewomen in Normandy who welcomed you, a landless and disgraced knight, in my bed.” Mischief glittered in her eyes. “But if you think that it was an act of kindness, you are mistaken.”

Guy swallowed painfully, then glanced away. He hated to remember that he had often been called ' _the lord of nothing'_  in his early youth. There was no Gisborne, and it was a stigma on his name. He had been plagued by the disgrace of his family in Nottinghamshire even when he had lived in Normandy and in the other counties of the Angevin Empire.

After Guy had been knighted in Rouen in a year after he had met Vaisey, he had continued serving his master as a squire. As he had always been at the sheriff’s side, Guy had often met Vaisey’s friends and companions, mainly English and Norman knights and lords. Many of Guy’s peers and noblemen of a higher rank hadn’t respected him, mocking and humiliating him: they had tried to guess where Gisborne had been located before Guy’s father had been dispossessed and had made up various stories about the disgrace of the Gisborne family. The young Earl of Buckingham, Vaisey’s closest friend and partner in crimes, had openly mocked Gisborne calling him _‘Guy of nothing’ instead of ‘Guy of Gisborne’_ and laughing in Guy’s face. All those lords had praised him for his outstanding fighting skills, but it had never gone beyond that.

The young Guy had appeared more well-mannered and more gallant than many other men of his age; despite long years he had lived in poverty, his manners had been impeccable, and it had been almost impossible to say that he hadn’t completed his studies of court manners and etiquette after the banishment from Locksley. Guy had become a very handsome man, with deep black hair, steel blue eyes, masculine face, and full sensuous lips. Young ladies had looked at him with great interest, their hearts leaping in dazed fascination, their eyes wide-open and shining in admiration at the sight of the young knight who had looked more like a Norman man than an Englishman.

Over time, Guy had become very popular among daughters of Vaisey’s friends and companions. Many young maidens had asked their fathers about Guy, and those lords had asked Vaisey about Guy’s origins. As soon as they had learned that Guy had been a poor and landless knight, whose life and wellbeing had depended entirely on Vaisey’s good grace and generosity, they had started mocking him behind his back. There had been no lord who could have allowed Guy to court his young and unmarried daughter. Every time Guy had heard someone discussing him and calling him a landless knight, he had remembered Robin of Locksley and had hated his childhood nemesis more fiercely.

The grown-up Guy was always very handsome in a dark, bold way, but there were detachment and coldness in his appearance which made some people, including young girls, cringe as they looked at him. His eyes often hardened and his gaze could turn so cold that some could have recoiled from him. His dark charm and cold appearance did nothing to improve people’s opinion of him. Yet, the same dark charm and the aura of mystery always caused some faint stirring of basic female interest in his personality of even the most cautious and critical women interest.

Guy scowled fiercely. “Amicia, I hate to be reminded of being landless again.”

“Robin of Locksley was pardoned. And what are you going to do now?”

“The sheriff will help me.”

She gave a waspish laugh. “And you think that you will have power?” she asked, her eyes dancing with a sneer. “You are the sheriff’s puppet and the pawn of Prince John and the sheriff, nothing more. If he wants to kill you today or tomorrow, he will do that without any hesitation.”

“It is not your deal,” he said sharply, unaccountably angry.

“I loved you once, Guy,” Amicia whispered, her gaze fixed on his profile. “I still care for you.”

“That wasn’t love,” he argued. “It was passion and desire.”

“It was a love affair for you, but you were my first love,” Amicia protested. “If I didn’t care for you, then why did I tell you, insistently and continuously, that Vaisey would be the death of you and that he would bring only misery to your life? I wanted you to leave this villain thirteen years ago in Normandy.”

“Amicia, I was frank with you. I told you my story,” Guy said, sadness creeping into his voice. “You know that I had to pledge my loyalty to Vaisey. I had to re-take everything I had lost so long ago. Vaisey gave me his word that he would help me restore my lands and would give me power.”

The royal mistress inclined her head slightly. “Did Vaisey keep his word? Pray tell me how did you get the Gisborne lands back? By outlawing Robin of Locksley, the rightful owner of the lands you unjustly confiscated?” She chuckled. “Now everything is back to how it was – Robin is a lord and you again have nothing. You have my sympathy that you are a landless knight again.”

Her words ripped into him like a lion’s claw. “Damn Robin Hood!” he growled. His face hardened, his eyes glittered with danger. “I am the rightful owner! These lands must be in my possession!”

“Only the small part of the Locksley estates – the Gisborne lands,” she corrected.

“Vaisey will help me,” Guy retorted. “I will have everything back once again, and Hood will pay for his crimes. This thief deserves to die a slow and painful death.”

Amicia shook her head, her expression hostile. “And what did Robin do wrong? Stopped you before you killed King Richard in Acre? Helped the peasants whom he pities and cannot watch dying? Managed to be loved by almost everyone while people loathe and hate you?”

“Stop, Amicia! Stop!” he bawled out.

She smiled indulgently. “You hate Robin, but you also envy him. You temporarily took Locksley from him, but he is still loved and admired, while you are loathed. And now Robin has been reinstated as a nobleman, and the people are happy again.”

“I don’t envy this thief! I don’t–”

She interrupted him. “You do envy Robin, Guy. You also adore and fear him.”

“I have never feared Hood!” he bit out harshly.

“Don’t deny that you have always feared Robin. I remember how anxious you were when you imagined your long-awaited meeting with him. But this anxiety masked your fear and, definitely, your hatred,” Amicia continued calmly, her expression calm, although there was another look of pensive curiosity in her eyes as well. “If it pleases you, I am honored to notify you that Robin has always feared you, too. He has always blamed you for his father’s death in the fire and hated you.”

“Feared me?” Guy repeated in disbelief. “Hood seems fearless! He fears nobody and nothing.”

“It is a wrong perception,” she said knowingly. “Robin has always feared that he can become you if he makes wrong choices. I think that it is one of the reasons why he… dislikes you so much.”

An astonished Guy questioned, “How do you know what Hood thinks?”

Amicia grinned. “Have you forgotten that Robin is the best friend of my younger brother?”

“Ah, of course,” he said, his lips twisting sardonically. “Robin and Robert, the two grand favorites of Richard Cœur de Lion and the two legendary Crusaders!”

“Exactly. Robin is also my friend.”

“ _Chérie,_ how did you bring the unhappiness of being Robin Hood’s friend on yourself?” Guy taunted, a mirthless smile curving his lips. But his expression toughened another shade as he distinguished the unguarded affection in Amicia’s face, and with that came the realization. “I have heard many stories about Hood’s love affairs in Aquitaine.” He glared at her, his features already dark. “So this knave corrupted you as well.”

To Guy’s amazement, Amicia laughed delightedly, an infectious sound that caused his mouth to soften into a smile. “Robin didn’t try to seduce me.”

“Then what happened?”

Amicia pursed her lips. “It was so many years ago. My brother Robert introduced Robin to me when the young Earl of Huntingdon, a fifteen-year-old boy, arrived at Prince Richard’s court. We quickly became friends.” She smiled angelically. “You know that my husband didn’t care for me. He left me in peace after I had given him heirs, and I was… enjoying my life at court in Poitiers.”

“Your husband permitted you to live your own life by the time when you and I were… together.”

Amicia shifted in her seat. Her elbows resting on the elbows of her armchair, her hands propping up her chin, she stared at her former lover. “I met Robin for the first time in two years after you and I broke our relations, and then you departed to England, with Vaisey.”

“To Essex at first,” he added.

“And then to Nottingham?”

“Yes, in this order. But please tell me about Hood and you.” Guy was curious.

The royal mistress smiled somewhat dreamily as her mind drifted back to the past. “At that carefree time, Robin and my dear brother still were at the age of innocence. Robin was an intriguing creature with shimmering, mischievous pale blue eyes: he was a young, innocent boy, sweet, outspoken, and handsome. You had told me many bad things about him, but as I spent much time with the young man, more a boy, I understood how wrong you were.” She cleared her throat. “Young ladies and matrons at court looked at Robin in adoration, and he was tempted a great deal.” Her smile grew wider. “I was tempted as well. And one night I freed Robin from his innocence. With great delight, I taught the boy an art of love; we had a short affair, and then we broke up but remained friends.”

She waited for the storm to break over her head, but to her relief, Guy looked more bewildered than angry. “This world is really small. I could have never imagined… that you and Hood were lovers.”

Amicia smiled smugly. “Well, it was much better for Robin to sleep with me than to go to a brothel to lose his innocence with a whore, like my brother Robert did.”

“Definitely, better.” He sneered. “I know that your brother often visits brothels.”

She sniggered. “Robert has always been a debauchee, but he is a better, much better man than Prince John. It is just that he loves women, and they love him too much.”

Guy snickered. “How does he cope without women in the Holy Land?”

“I have heard that the brothels of Acre are an exotic wonder,” Amicia said with a sneer. “I am sure that my brother has already slept with almost all Saracen whores in the city.”

He smiled knowingly. “Yeah, you can taste a great sin in the brothels of Acre.”

Amicia laughed. “Did you go to prostitutes after you failed to kill the king? Or perhaps you went there before you attacked the king’s camp and wounded Robin from the back?”

Guy gritted his teeth. “Don’t anger me, Amicia.”

“Why not?”

“Fine, fine. I visited one brothel in Acre. Are you satisfied with my confession?”

“More than you can imagine,” she shot back with a smile.

“So you and young Locksley were lovers,” Guy jumped to another theme.

“Yes,” she returned. “Robin was a quick learner, hungry for mischief and adventure in a bed as much as in real life.” She let out a laugh, her lips quirking. “It is fabulous what I achieved with my lessons of lovemaking and passion during the warm Aquitanian nights we spent together. Nobody of Robin’s lovers, whom I know from royal court, has ever complained.” She smiled. “Robin always satisfied his ladies. He is a very passionate man and a brilliant lover.”

Many of Huntingdon and Leicester’s love escapades were rumored to be scandalous, especially some of Leicester’s notorious affairs with married noblewomen; Leicester was an infamous frequenter of the finest and even cheap brothels in London, in Normandy, and in Aquitaine. Although the worst scandalmongers claimed that Robin of Locksley distasted brothels and preferred to deal with widows of noblemen, Guy didn’t think that it made any difference as Robin enjoyed a female company and seemed to have always used his chance to entertain himself with a lovely girl.

“Hood indulged himself in the lusts of flesh at the very young age,” Guy commented disdainfully. “He just turned fifteen and already had love affairs!” He gritted his teeth. “I was working like a slave to earn money for a piece of bread when I was fifteen!”

“Guy, you were unfortunate to have an unjustly miserable youth, but it is another matter. And why do you believe that you are so much better than Robin?” She challenged him, feeling the unwelcome tightening in her low throat. “I am sorry, but my memory doesn’t fail me often, and I recall that you told me that you bedded a servant girl in an inn when you were fifteen or sixteen.”

He hung his head, resigned. “You are right.”

There was a condescending expression on Amicia's face. “There is only one difference between you and Robin with regards to your love adventures. In contrast to Robin, you were not welcomed in the company and in the bedrooms of highborn ladies, like the Queen Mother’s ladies-in-waiting. You had to deal with servant girls, peasant lasses, and prostitutes.”

Guy sneered. “I pity so much a woman who could become Hood’s wife if he ever marries someone. This thief is chronically incapable of marital fidelity.”

“You misjudge Robin – greatly and unfairly,” she said sharply. “Robin was besotted by his childhood sweetheart whom he proposed as he reached seventeen. He was faithful to her during their courtship and betrothal before his departure to the Holy Land. He spent a year in Poitiers, with Robert and me, before King Richard ascended the throne, and I watched him living in celibacy, which, I have to say, astonished and impressed me.”

“At least, I didn’t make myself as dirty in women’s beds as Hood did.”

Guy had already created a different image of Hood in his mind, thinking that his sworn enemy had cheated on Marian during their betrothal and later had abandoned her, choosing glory. This unfavorable portrayal of Robin was in line with his hateful attitude towards Robin; yet, the quiet voice in the back of his head told him that he had misjudged Robin. But it was so easier to imagine Robin being a prominent womanizer. Guy had long thought that Robin had undoubtedly taken after his father, Sir Malcolm of Locksley, who had been a debauchee at court in his youth and who had seemed to have had a wandering eye for pretty women even after his marriage to Hood’s mother. Hood was similar to his father who had cast a lecherous spell over Guy’s mother, like Robin had cast his over Marian.

§§§

Guy gave Amicia a long, searching look. For a while, they didn’t speak, looking at each other. She was smiling with an enigmatic smile, and he was watching her with an intensive gaze.

Amicia smiled. “It is unknown who bedded more women, but I think it is probably Robin. And even if it is true, you made your hands dirtier _in the blood of innocent people whom you killed_.”

“Sometimes the darkness is the only thing left in your life,” Guy responded rhetorically.

“Only for weak men,” she flung at him.

“Amicia, how can you tell me that?” He suddenly looked hurt. “You know how much I distasted Vaisey’s orders to kill various knights, noblemen, and everyone who was an enemy of King Henry, Prince John, and Vaisey. You know how disgusted with myself I felt… when I just started working for Vaisey.”

“I remember that. This is the reason why I have always thought that you must have run away, without looking back, from Vaisey a long time ago! This man is destroying everything good in you!”

Guy clenched his fists, his lips thinning. His expression evolved into the one of sheer hatred. “It is not my fault that I had to do wrong things to survive. Hood deprived me of everything I must have inherited, of my birthright. I couldn’t have allowed myself to enjoy my life as much as I deserved.”

“Guy, when your face is twisted with hatred, you don’t look as dashing as you can look.”

“I didn’t mean to displease you, Amicia. It is just that I remember this damned brat–”

Amicia cut him off. “Guy, you are becoming more and more annoying. You always say the same: ‘ _it is Robin Hood’s fault’, ‘it is Locksley’s fault’, ‘I hate Robin of Locksley’, ‘I want Locksley dead’, ‘I will take my revenge on Locksley’, ‘Hood owes me too much’_ … It is difficult to remember all of the things you told me about your animosity towards Robin.” She scowled. “Stop blaming Robin for your misery and hardships. If you put aside your hatred for him and try to think rationally, you will see that it is not entirely Robin’s fault.” She sighed. “Actually, Robin’s fault is minimal.”

Guy bristled, “What did you say? How can you say these things knowing what Hood did to me?”

“Calm down, Guy.” She drew a deep breath. “Your father, Sir Roger of Gisborne, had no right to come to the village when he suffered from a chronic and incurable disease – leprosy.” She made a face. “He was banished for the reason – he was dying and could have sickened others.”

He glowered at her. “And what else?”

She remained silent for a moment, looking at the floor; then she gazed back at him. “One thing. Everyone in the village wanted to expel you and your sister, not only Robin. There was that evil bailiff – I am sorry, but I don’t remember his name – who wanted you to be exiled. And I doubt that Robin understood what was going on. After all, Robin was just a child of six or seven years old back then, while you were several years older; he was immature and reckless, not as clever and reasonable as you were.”

 “You are serious, aren’t you?” Looking at her questioningly, he shrugged. “When I told you my story years ago, you were more willing to take my side.”

She nodded. “It is true. At that time, I knew only your opinion about Robin who you called an arrogant spoiled brat who deserved to die for what he did to you.” She lapsed into silence. Sighing deeply, she cast a wary glance at the fire burning cheerfully in the hearth. “But later Robin and I became friends. I saw him in a different light, and it was clear to me that Robin was much more than he seemed – he is a kind, compassionate, incredibly talented man who can feel very, very deep, with all his heart.”

Guy jumped to his feet, glaring at Amicia ferociously and feeling that it would give him great satisfaction to strangle her with his bare hands for defending his archenemy. “I ought to break your neck for saying that,” he snarled, the look on his face murderous.

Amicia smiled smugly. “If you do that, my brother will kill you as brutally as he never killed any Saracen on the Crusade. Don’t forget that the legendary Captain Beaumont in the Holy Land, whose fame is as huge as the world, is the best swordsman in Christendom; he is even better with a sword than the legendary Captain Locksley.”

“Ah, I forgot that Captain Beaumont is so legendary!” The man in black leather scoffed.

“Remember one thing, Gisborne,” she menaced, her eyes shooting daggers. “If you do something bad to me, then you will sign your own death warrant because Robert de Beaumont, Robin of Locksley, or King Richard himself will murder you.”

Lady Amicia de Beaumont had been Prince Richard’s mistress for about two years before Richard’s accession to the throne and departure to the Holy Land. Guy and anybody else didn’t need to know about that. Only her brother Robert, Robin, and several more people were aware of her amorous relationship with the king. Richard was not like John – he had always been discreet with his few liaisons.

With a tremendous effort of will, Guy reined in his blazing fury. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Instantly, he was ashamed of himself and lowered his gaze.

She smiled complacently. “This time, I will excuse you, Guy. But never talk to me in this way again.”

“I will not. I promise.”

“I believe you.” She sighed. “We were not only lovers but also friends, and I still want to help you.”

For an instant, Guy looked humble and shy, a tender smile tender and beautiful. “Thank you.”

Amicia smiled sweetly at him. “You are a good man, Guy. You are just misguided.”

“Why are you telling me all these things?” Guy demanded impatiently.

“I care for you. It grieves me that you are still carrying so much hatred, resentment, and anger in yourself. I saw the same emotions in your heart so many years ago. I warned you that you wouldn’t be happy if you didn’t change, and you didn’t listen to me,” Amicia replied. She took a deep breath. “You know what your problem is, Guy? _You are unable to accept that you might be guilty of something._ You always blame others for your troubles because it is easier for you to deny your own role in the matter. Also, you are taking the easiest path to what you want to achieve, like siding with Vaisey. You are a strong man, but you are not willful enough to break from Vaisey.” She pointed a finger at him. “And if you don’t change, you will destroy yourself!”

“I am working for Vaisey because he will give me power.”

“ _You don’t have real power_ , Guy! Vaisey will always be your master,” Amicia parried, “You will probably scream now, but I will say that in any case. Unlike you, Robin, and my brother Robert have real power and real influence over King Richard because they are the king’s trusted friends and because they know what loyalty to a right person is.”

Despite his surprise, Guy managed to keep his voice cool. “Amicia, do you mean the loyalty to the king who cares only about foreign wars and glory?”

“Shut up!”Amicia looked furious. Her voice was a hissing sound of a serpent attacking its victim. “Don’t insult King Richard! Never ever say a bad word about Richard in my presence!”

“Loyal to King Richard as much as your dear brother and Robin are?” Guy demanded.

Amicia looked at Guy steadily, and he was surprised to see that now her eyes were filled not with anger, but with sadness. “I am loyal to King Richard because it is what my conscience dictates me to do.” She sighed. “I am loyal to the king because it is more practical to be loyal to those _who are worthy of loyalty_.” She glanced into his eyes. “It saddens me that you, Guy, don’t see the difference between misguided loyalty and self-killing loyalty.”

Guy held her gaze, his steel blue eyes cold and hard. William Marshal’s words emerged in his mind. Was it indeed _a suicidal choice to side with Vaisey_? He was confused. He was at crossroads.

“I am loyal to the sheriff,” Guy said with determination.

Amicia sat silent, twisting her fingers. “And I am loyal to King Richard.”

“Better the favor of the present prince than the favor of the absentee king,” Guy retorted.

She jumped to her feet, still holding his gaze. “Better sleep with an honest conscience than with a troubled conscience, Guy. I will repeat the same even if you put the blade to my throat.”

He sneered. “Yeah, I have no doubt, Amicia.” He rose from his armchair as gracefully as a panther. “You are as besotted by Richard Plantagenet as your brother and Hood.”

“Guy, we are at the opposite sides. What will you do? You are not going to hand me to Prince John?” Her heart was thundering in her chest in rage mingled with fear.

“I am not going to blow up your cover, Amicia.” His tone was soothing. “You have gone mad if you want to win this game with Prince John, and I am… worried about you.” He gazed into her eyes. “But I am not going to be your executioner. There is enough blood on my hands.”

“Well, I am pleased to know that.”

“Does your brother, King Richard’s dear friend, know about our relationship?” He always referred to the Earl of Leicester with sneer due to his closeness with the king.

“No, he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t need to know.”

Guy laughed. “Yeah, Amicia! Are you so afraid of your younger brother?”

“No, I am not. I just don’t want to hear his… lectures. He will be displeased, of course.”

In reality, Amicia feared that Robert would learn about that, for her brother could have told King Richard, and she wanted to avoid that at any cost. She still loved Richard, so she didn’t want to disappoint the king by revealing to him the truth about her indiscretions with Guy of Gisborne, the traitor to the crown. Even if she had been Guy’s lover a long time ago, long before she had become Richard’s mistress, the king would be still displeased with the news. She didn’t want to lose Richard’s trust and affection he had for her despite her current forced liaison with Prince John.

Amicia laughed, but when Guy drew his sword, the mirth faded away. She backed away, but Guy stood between her and the exit. There was nowhere for her to run. “What is this?” She also unsheathed her sword.

Guy advanced upon her. She made a move back.

“Stop and calm down, Amicia.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, standing in a defensive position. “Are you… intending to kill me?”

“I am not going to fight with you or murder you,” he assured in a reassuring tone. “Your swordplay is highly professional, but not as great as your brother’s, Locksley’s, and even mine.”

She visibly relaxed. “Then what do you want?”

“Take my sword and dispose of your own sword as soon as possible,” Guy recommended, handing his unsheathed weapon to her. “Your French sword has a distinctive blade with a thick continuous tang, which leaves quite distinctive scars and slices differently as compared to a broadsword.” He smirked. “I don’t have these elegant French swords. My sword is a usual English broadsword, and its blade is not like yours.” He smiled as he saw the light of understanding in her eyes. “If you want to cover your games better, which is important after today’s events, you must dispose of this French sword and never use it again. Who knows what the prince’s spies will think.”

She nodded in understanding. “I was going to get rid of my sword tonight.”

Guy gave a wan smile. “But you will need another one until you get a new one.”

“Thank you,” Amicia said with a smile as she took his sword in her hands.

“Don’t worry. I haven’t killed anyone with this sword yet,” Guy stated, and his voice sounded tired. “It is a new sword which I have just taken from one renowned master in Bermondsey, where the weapons for Prince John’s men from the elite guard are produced.”

“You don’t need your new sword, do you?”

“I have my old sword that took many, many lives,” he explained, sadness crawling into his voice.

Amicia blinked. “Thank you,” she repeated.

Guy averted his gaze. “Welcome,” he said in half a whisper.

Amicia grabbed her own French sword and Guy’s broadsword in her right arm. Then she took a golden cage in her left arm. She dashed to the door, but before opening it, she turned to face him.

“Guy,” she called.

He raised her eyes at her. “What?”

For a split second, she looked almost vulnerable before her face turned blank. “You don’t know King Richard at all. Believe me that he will win the battle with Prince John,” she assured him, her voice steady and firm. “King Richard loves a few but he loves deeply and looks after them. Prince John loves everyone and no one at the same time. Richard has a constant nature, while John is a fickle man.”

“I don’t care for King Richard. And we don’t know who will win,” Guy protested.

“King Richard is much more than he seems,” Amicia said with conviction, smiling craftily. “Richard is vengeful and dangerous if his own interests and the interests of those whom he loves are touched. He loves more those who are the most talented, the most honest, and the most loyal ones. Yet, he loathes those who are the most talented and the least honest men, even if they are very loyal but can potentially backstab him anytime.” She pointed a finger at him. “But Richard is always generous with those who are loyal, both those who are talented and those who are ordinary.” She raised her voice. “And Richard is very practical, much more practical than it seems.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “Remember what I told you, Guy. Remember my words!”

Amicia opened the door and paused before walking out into the corridor to make sure that there were no one outside, and then she took a step forward. She gave Guy a last glance, her eyes full of regret, then swiveled and exited the chamber.

Guy started pacing like a caged animal. Then he stopped near the hearth, looking into the flames, feeling as if his soul were burning to ashes. A feeling of growing self-loathing mingled with shame swept through Guy. He was tormented by his own demons, the fears of losing his life, the ever-rising feeling of guilt, and the strong fluttering of his heart calling out for redemption.

They talked about Vaisey so much that Guy started brooding over his relationship with the sheriff. Amicia was right: with a sickening clarity, Guy realized that Vaisey was his father and his executioner, his savior and his demon, his grave digger and his anathema. He was burning in hell alive and falling into a dark, frightening abyss.

He came to the table in the corner of the chamber, then lowered his head in despair. His mind was racing through the most tragic events of his life – the fire that had consumed Roger of Gisborne and Ghislaine of Gisborne; several years of miserable existence in abject poverty in Normandy together with Isabella; two blissful years of his service to Roger de Tosny before he had to leave his former master; his failure to set up his own business and his meeting with Vaisey on a tournament in Rouen; and the long years of meticulous work to retake everything he had lost in his boyhood.

The raven-haired knight shook his head to clear it, licking away the blood that stained his lip. Gritting his teeth, Guy screamed in rage, venting his frustration in curses and throwing everything from the table on the carpeted floor. He stood straight, his eyes taking in the mess he had just created in the room, thinking that even his efforts to release his anger were fruitless. But pain and rage were still suffocating him, his demons were still torturing him, and he felt no relief.

Gisborne felt tears sting his eyes and closed them tightly to shut off the flow of images; his lips were compressed so forcefully they were nearly white. He regretted that he had done so many evil things in his life. He regretted that he had become a cold-blooded murderer and Vaisey’s marionette. He hated Vaisey with all his heart. He hated Robin for the hero’s continuous victories in their ancient rivalry. He blamed Vaisey and Robin Hood for the mental anguish that he was experiencing for so many years.

And then something snapped inside him. Somehow, Guy began to think that it wasn’t Marian or Amicia who must be his savior. Maybe Marian and Amicia were right that he hadn’t seen his own faults and blamed others for his transgressions and sins. Maybe he must become his own savior. But he couldn’t blame himself – it was too painful to think that he had destroyed his peace and life with his own hands. And so he adhered to his old strategy – he blamed Robin Hood and Malcolm of Locksley for his unhappiness, hardships, troubles, and wrong choices.

But Guy also blamed Vaisey for brutalizing him and teaching him to live his life in the most villainous ways. He wouldn’t have committed so many crimes if Vaisey had never cornered him by purchasing all his outstanding debt and then blackmailing him into becoming his squire. Many things would have been different if his life path had never intersected with Vaisey’s. Guy was wandering in the maze of inky darkness since he had met Vaisey, and every time he tried to find the way out he failed.

Guy hastily removed his clothes and threw it on the floor. He donned his black silk robe and landed on the edge of the bed. He muttered something incomprehensible in Norman-French, feeling a crushing wave of grief and pain wash over him. He felt extremely tired and tormented by his dark demons, with feelings of checkmate and regret which often comes when a difficult decision had been made and proved to have been a wrong one in the end. He had been through hell and had craved vengeance, but that gave him nothing – not even satisfaction.

Guy lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. He permitted himself to succumb to the world of tortured dreams that haunted him since the tragic day of the fire at Gisborne Manor. His dreadful dreams always faded when he awoke like darkness fades with the first ray of sun, and another nightmare started – long day hours of his loyal service to Sheriff Vaisey when he had to endure humiliation and do despicable things at the command of the chief demon of Nottingham.

Guy fell into a strange trance-like state instead of normal sleep, and soon he awoke to the sound of his own moans. He dreamt of the fire where his parents had perished, and he again lived through his meeting with Vaisey in Rouen and the knight’s murder in the moonlit Forest of Rouvray. The atrocities Vaisey and he had committed stalked him in his nightmares. Sighing heavily, Guy dropped his body on the pillows and shut his eyes. He had to escape the tart feeling of self-loathing at least in his dreams. But he knew that there was no escape from himself, and he was trapped in darkness. He could no longer stay at court, and he decided to depart from London in an hour.

§§§

Lady Amicia de Beaumont quickly walked through the corridors of the Tower, looking around to avoid being detected by the guards. She headed to her chambers where the important visitor could already wait for her. Tonight she had a secret meeting with her old friend – Lady Megan Bennet of Attenborough, Queen Eleanor’s favorite lady-in-waiting and personal spy.

Amicia was frustrated, angry, and disappointed that Guy didn’t listen to her. She wanted Guy to break from Vaisey, but her heart was filled with apprehension that he wouldn’t continue serving the sheriff, but she could do nothing more for him. She was glad that Guy didn’t expose her to Prince John as a traitor and King Richard’s spy. At first, she had thought that Guy would kill her when they had been alone in his bedchamber. Yet, Guy hadn’t harmed her, and he had let her go! That meant that he hadn’t become completely evil after so many years he had spent at Vaisey’s side. She really pitied Guy.

She paused near the door of her apartment, then turned her head and scanned the corridor to make sure that nobody saw her. Taking a deep breathing and smiling in anticipation of the meeting, she opened the door and entered the dark room. She closed the door and put the golden cage on the floor, blinking her eyes as she tried to adjust to the darkness. Understanding that Megan was not there, she slowly made her way to a small table in the corner and lit several candles.

Amicia placed the candelabrum on the table, and then seated herself in an armchair near the window, letting her gaze examine the chamber. Prince John allowed his mistress to occupy the most luxurious bedchamber at the White Tower. The room was decorated mainly in the Aquitanian style in white, mint green, and dark brown, and the interior was glamorous: there was a magnificent canopy bed with end-bench, a private balcony that overlooked the Thames, one gigantic fireplace, one living room within the master bedroom, and extravagant bathroom in the distant alcove. Expensive Aubusson rugs lay on the floor, and rich tapestries hung the walls. Another feature was a vaulted gilded ceiling with exposed wood beams and two large arched windows with iron inlay. Amicia’s room was as magnificent as the one she had occupied at royal court in Aquitaine.

Suddenly, Amicia heard the steps that came outside the room, and a fumbling with the lock, which made her nervous. “Who is coming?” she asked aloud, fearing that it was someone of the courtiers.

The door flung open, and the cloaked female figure swiftly slipped into the room. Then she closed the door behind herself and locked it with the key that Amicia had given her guest a while ago. The lady was dressed in an expensive blue velvet mantle that tightly embraced her well-curved forms, and there was a black velvet mask on her face. The newcomer was Lady Megan Bennet who had arrived in London just tonight only to meet with Amicia.

“Who do you think I am?” Megan said in Norman-French as she strode forward, towards the bed. “Have you already forgotten about me?”

Amicia smiled heartily. “You know that I always remember you, my dear.”

Megan took off her mask and put it on the bed; then she hid the key from the chamber in the pocket of her mantle. “Knowing how dangerous it is for you to be at Prince John’s court, I often pray for you, Amicia.” She sank onto the bench near the bed.

The light of the torch fell on Megan’s face, and Amicia saw how pale Megan was, but her friend’s overall appearance more than fulfilled her expectations.

Megan looked rather exhausted, but some hardly noticeable lines of tiredness didn’t make her less attractive. Her lovely face was heart-shaped, her cheekbones proportionally high, and her nose was straight and perfectly molded. Her large eyes were almond–shaped and startlingly deep blue between the thick, curling black lashes and the dark brows. Megan’s features were almost perfect and expressive, and the beauty of her eyes was enriched by the bright sparkle of life and passion anyone could see in their depths. Her long dark hair was accurately arranged in an up-do on the nape of her head. She was rather tall, her complexion was light and voluptuous; she was slenderer than Marian.

Megan wasn’t as extraordinarily and supremely beautiful as Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine was in her youth and as Melisende Plantagenet was. Megan’s exquisite beauty and physical attractiveness were underscored by her natural grace, her classic facial lines, her large expressive eyes, and her undeniable charm. Her vivid and unusual personality and the headstrong air of independency about her threw a special light over her features, transforming them into the unforgettable picture for anyone. Her excellent taste in clothing and all her charming dress accessories enhanced her attractiveness. If a man had ever seen Megan, he would never forget her breathtaking image.

Megan took off her mantle and threw it on the bed. Even as a weary traveler, Megan looked classically elegant and very beautiful in her trendy outdoor gown made out of azure brocade, with V–shaped, medium–cut neckline and a small train trimmed with delicate white lace and silver thread. The design of the sleeves – funnel–shaped dark blue sleeves with a certain amount of fullness at the shoulder – betrayed the hand of an Aquitanian designer in her traveling gown. Fearing that she could be robbed during her journey, Megan didn’t wear any jewels. She wore a large traveling bag on her left shoulder, where she kept only several gowns, undergarments, and some accessories.

Amicia eyed Megan, and a bright smile appeared on her face. “You are stunningly beautiful."

Megan smiled. "Thank you for your compliment, Amicia, although I fear I cannot agree with you.” She sighed tiredly. “The journey from Dover to London was long and arduous.”

“I hope you had no adventures, my dear?”

“Don’t worry. It was fine.” The young lady put her bag on the carpet near the bench.

“Good.”

Megan eyed Amicia. “You look better than me.”

“I was at the feast in the great hall… before I spied on John when he talked to Sir Jasper in the library.” Amicia conveniently dropped the details about her recent misadventures with Guy.

Amicia got to her feet and walked towards the bed; she settled on the bench next to her friend. In an outburst of a deep friendly affection, she scooped Megan into her arms. Megan laughed and warmly embraced her back. They froze in a tight embrace of long-lost friends for a long moment.

Megan drew back and regarded Amicia with a sly smile. “Amicia, I missed you so much! Queen Eleanor also missed you!” She winked at the older woman. “I am really glad to see you, but dammit, I wish you would offer me another everlasting smile right now!"

Amicia gave her an entrancing, slow smile that could charge the atmosphere with delight. “Do you like how I look now, my dear?”

“It is much, much better than before.”

“Meg, I envy that you saw Queen Eleanor only weeks ago. I miss her so much,” Amicia confessed in a tight voice, wishing to be anywhere but not at court in London. “With all my heart, I miss grand and merry festivities in the hall of lost footsteps, majestic courtly love games, performances of our favorite troubadours, and private music evenings with Queen Eleanor in the Maubergeonne Tower.”

Megan smiled. “Well, I am lucky to enjoy life at court in Aquitaine, with Queen Eleanor and all our friends.” She sighed, her eyes taking in Amicia’s wistful expression. “After you left Poitiers and relocated to England, there is always some emptiness at court. Nobody can take your place there!”

“You know how much I would love to be in Aquitaine instead of Prince John’s court.”

“I know, Amicia. But it will be over soon, and you will come back to Aquitaine.”

Amicia’s aquamarine eyes betrayed her lack of hope. “Who knows?”

“Don’t be so pessimistic.”

“I am just a realist, Meg. I have been dreaming of King Richard’s return to the Angevin Empire for too long, but he is still in the Holy Land. We don’t know what another day will bring to us.”

They heard a booming sound of the thunder outside. The heavy rain began to pelt down, and a huge billow of foamy clouds drifted across the night sky. As the window was undraped, they could see the cold wind sway the branches of trees in the garden. The weather was terrible for that time of the year.

“We have some time to talk,” Megan said after a brief pause, a bleak trace of tiredness creeping into her voice; she stretched her legs ahead of her. “I will have to leave the White Tower in less than an hour; then I will travel to Dover again.” She rubbed her cheek. “Maybe I will be lucky to find a ship rather quickly. I need to return to Aquitaine as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Queen Eleanor must be waiting for you. I have already prepared the parchments for our queen. I copied all the necessary letters I discovered in the prince’s library.”

Megan tilted her head to one side. “And what are these letters about?”

“Oh, it seems that I need to get accustomed to your curiosity once again,” Amicia teased.

“Yes, I am curious!” Megan exclaimed. “I cannot resist curiosity. I can resist tears and I can behave very well in the hardest hours of grief. But I can never stay aside if I am intrigued by something.”

Amicia let out a light laugh. “You always have your way. You learn what you want and blossom in this knowledge. But then a letter slips from a drawer, by sheer chance, and you learn something new, and then everything collapses. And then you make the world collapse with you.”

“Oh, you know me so well!”

“Meg, have you forgotten that I saw you when you were a little girl?” Amicia reminded. “I played with you in your wild games and tolerated your obnoxious pranks. I spent much time with you in Aquitaine.”

“Of course, I remember! I will never forget that!”

“I am glad that we have so many good memories.”

“But now we have to discuss something very important,” Megan pointed out.

“Yes,” Amicia said as she rose to her feet and walked to the bed. She crouched and put her right hand under the feather mattress, trying to find what she collected for the queen. “There are many interesting letters about the Queen Mother’s golden boy the prince has already sent to Lord Vaisey.”

After Queen Eleanor had learned that one of Prince John’s spies had uncovered her dark secret about her adultery and her illegitimate son, she had commanded Amicia de Beaumont as Richard’s personal spy and confidant to learn what Prince John had been planning to do in order to find and capture her son. Eleanor hadn’t wished to tell Megan even the small part of the truth, but she had desperately needed to have someone very close to herself – someone, whom she trusted like her own daughter – to help her unmask John’s spies at court in Poitiers and then deal with the traitors. Eleanor had also needed Megan’s help to establish in reliable contact with Amicia, the only person who could control Prince John’s actions from shadows. Megan was a daughter of King Richard’s close and loyal friend and Queen Eleanor’s spy, and she was an ideal candidate for the task.

They had successfully discovered all the spies, and soon the threat of the further information leakage had been neutralized. Queen Eleanor had given Megan an important and confidential task to go to London and meet with Amicia, so she could collect the secret letters Prince John could write about the golden boy and could gather other important information related to the matter. Megan was the only person whom the queen could have sent from Aquitaine to London, and the lady had departed from Poitiers more than two weeks ago, traveling incognito in the disguise of a merchant woman on her way to London. Everyone at court in Aquitaine believed that Megan was seriously sick and, thus, retired to one of Queen Eleanor’s estates in Bordeaux to recuperate.

Megan frowned. “When did he send these letters?”

“John dispatched his most trusted messenger to Nottingham only two days ago, but I was lucky to discover them earlier and copy the text; then I returned them to John.” Amicia approached the bench and sat down, then handed to Megan the huge pile of parchments. “Here is everything I have.”

Megan took the pile into her hands, and then put it into her traveling bag; then she gazed at Amicia, her expression strained, her blue eyes revealing sadness. “Prince John is desperately trying to unravel the mysteries of Queen Eleanor’s private life.” A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “I fear to imagine what can happen if the prince somehow finds the queen’s son.”

“So far Vaisey failed to identify the golden boy, and John is displeased.”

“Thanks to God that the prince knows nothing!”

Amicia gave a nod. “Prince John hates all his illegitimate siblings on paternal line. He also hates Queen Eleanor because she has always loved him less than her other children, favoring Richard.” She made a helpless gesture. “Can you imagine how much John hates his mother’s youngest son, whose existence is kept secret?”

“Prince John must hate the golden boy as much as he hates King Richard.”

“Exactly, Meg.”

“Amicia, do you know who the Queen Mother’s son is?”

Amicia shook her head. “I have no idea,” she replied hurtfully. “But I have my own suspicions.”

A curious Megan asked, “Whom do you suspect?”

“I have thought a lot about that. I have made my own conclusions, although I may be mistaken. I think there are three options – my brother Robert, Roger de Lacy, or Robin of Locksley.”

“Your brother?” Megan’s expression changed into bewilderment.

“My father was staunchly loyal to Queen Eleanor and Richard when he was the prince of England and then he became the king. Father spent a lot of time in Poitiers, and he was in the Queen Mother’s close entourage; he had many chances to have an affair with her.”

“Oh, that’s unbelievable.”

“It is very difficult to understand what is really true,” Amicia speculated, her expression somewhat distant as she remembered her younger brother. “I haven’t seen my beloved Robert for so long, but I remember him very well. Robert is an unusual man, and he is so similar to a typical Poitevin lord with hot and rebellious southern blood that boils in rebellion and in thirst for adventures.”

“Robin of Locksley is also similar to your Robert; they both are hot-headed, rebellious, foolhardy, adventurous, and desperate.” Megan let out a quiet laugh. “I have heard a lot from the Queen Mother about their incredible deeds in the Holy Land. Sir Robin is also the legendary Robin Hood.”

Amicia smiled in delight. “Robin’s escapades in Sherwood Forest heat my imagination. If I were a young girl, I would have dreamt of being kidnapped by Robin, and I would have surely joined his gang.” Her smile grew wider. “Robin has my deep admiration and undying respect.”

“Well, I also adore Sir Robin. He is a unique man.” Megan’s voice sounded more skeptical.

“Oh, I know that Robin is not a type of a man you can fall in love with.”

 “You are right, Amicia.”

Amicia looked thoughtful for a moment. “If one of my old friends hadn’t been already married, I would have introduced you to him. You two would have been a grand match.” Looking at Megan, she thought of Guy whom she considered very compatible with Megan.

“Whom do you mean?” Megan inquired, puzzled.

“It doesn’t matter, darling. Forget my words.”

“Roger de Lacy with his hellish temper is similar to hotheaded southern people,” Megan noticed.

“Yes,” Amicia said. “There are good grounds for saying that either of them can be the golden boy.”

“I guess we will never learn the truth, right?”

“Naturally. It is _a secret of huge political importance,_ and it is better to know nothing about it at all. The knowledge is dangerous for lives of those who know about the birth of the golden boy.”

Megan’s expression changed into agitated seriousness. “What about us?”

Amicia let out a sigh. “Please calm down, Meg. As long as King Richard and Queen Eleanor trust us, we are perfectly safe, provided that we keep our mouths shut.” She smiled. “Richard deliberately revealed the truth to me before he departed to the Holy Land. He asked me to keep an eye on John in case there is any leakage of information at any level, and John begins to plot.”

Megan looked relieved. “I will never betray our king and our queen.”

“Then there is nothing to fear, Meg.”

“I helped Queen Eleanor to find the prince’s spies at court, and then–” Megan broke off, her heart hammering harder as her mind reproduced the cold and cruel words of her mistress. “She said that the birth of her golden boy must be shrouded in the mists of mystery, and she stressed that those who know the truth must be silenced forever.” She paused for an instant. “Two ladies, one of them from the queen’s close entourage, mysteriously died from an unknown disease.”

Amicia needed only a moment to realize that Eleanor had poisoned them. “The Queen Mother took care of them, and it is understandable. Imagine what will happen if nobles of the Angevin Empire learn about the queen’s child who was born out of wedlock. Then the whole line of succession to the English throne will be put in doubt: the war for succession will begin and much blood will be spilled.”

“This is a bloody secret.” Megan’s voice was hollow.

“Exactly.”

A tense, eerie silence stretched between them. For a long time, they didn’t utter a word, absorbed in brooding over the fate of the Queen Mother’s golden boy. Outside, the wind whistled like a demon.

“We have some time left,” Megan said at last. “How is your life at Prince John’s court, Amicia?”

“You know what it means to be John’s mistress,” Amicia said quietly; her voice sounded like a lament. “Any beautiful lady might catch John’s eye at court, and then he invites her in his bed. But then you will pray to be free from this lecherous man.”

“Prince John is like his father.”

“Undoubtedly.” Amicia frowned, disgusted with a mere thought about Prince John. “You cannot imagine how terrible I feel here in London.” Her gaze flickered in the direction of the bed where John had often made love to her before returning to her friend. “I hate this room! I hate this bed! I hate everything around me!”

Megan looked concerned. “Is it so bad to be the prince’s lover?”

“Not bad – terrible! I can tolerate John’s philandering ways, but I barely cope to play a role of a devoted mistress. With every year passing, I find it more difficult to listen to John’s hateful speeches about Richard who is nothing as compared to John, but I am pretending that I agree with the prince.”

“Amicia, do you miss King Richard?”

“I do miss Richard terribly. I do wonder how I shall cope without him any longer,” Amicia said, her throat tight with unshed tears. “I often dream about the happy moments we spent together.” She paused, struggling to maintain her composure; she always became sentimental when she reminisced about her affair with Richard. “I had been besotted with Richard long before we became lovers.”

“Oh, dear!”

“I never loved my husband, who was a callous and degrading beast.” She drew a deep breath. “I married him at my father’s demand when I was only twelve years old; I was dragged to the chapel because I didn’t want to marry him. Fortunately, my husband had left me in peace and allowed me to lead my own life after I had given him two heirs, who now live in my estates in Leicestershire. Since then, I was with Robert at court in Poitiers.”

Megan gave her a compassionate look. “I am sorry that I reminded you of something that hurts you.”

“It is fine, darling. You know that I didn’t care about my husband and was happy when he died.” Amicia stared at the tapestry that hung on the wall above the headboard of the bed. It depicted Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, beauty, and pleasure, as a disrobed woman, with her arms drawn in a futile gesture of modesty; there was a small wreath of roses clasped in the goddess’ arms. “In my life, there were only two men whom I truly loved.”

A curious Megan inquired, “Who are they?”

“Fine, I will tell you, my curious and intemperate angel,” Amicia conceded. “One of them was my dark knight whom I met in Normandy so long ago, and I thought that I loved him most of all my life, but I was mistaken.” She referred to Guy, but she didn’t reveal his name. “When my brother Robert became Prince Richard’s favorite, I spent much time in Richard’s company.” She smiled. “And all my old feelings for that dark knight faded away as soon as I looked into Richard’s bright blue eyes.”

“But you have to sleep with Prince John. You have to please this womanizer.”

“This is not what I want to do. This is what I must do.”

“Why, Amicia? Isn’t there any other way to spy on the prince for our king?”

“Just for one more time, only one more, Lady Megan Bennet of Attenborough, I will tell you one thing,” Amicia stated emphatically, a playful smile on her lips. “Just for once, please listen to me.”

“I am all ears.”

Amicia stared at her friend for a long time, collecting her thoughts. “Men are selfish creatures. They want to use you as their tool and then discard you if they don’t love you. That’s why you must always try to stay independent. You must be cunning and willful, but this willfulness must be rational because excessive willfulness may kill you.” She sighed. “But in our world men have power – women are destined to do other things. And yet, life is unpredictable, and you need to be sure that you will survive in our ruthless society. It means that you have to make choices that you don’t like.”

Megan placed a hand on Amicia’s shoulder. “Like your choice to sleep with Prince John?”

“Yes, Meg.”

“Oh, Amicia!” A lump formed in Megan’s throat. “If Prince John learns that you were Richard’s mistress and that you love him, he will kill you.” She looked horrified. “Or am I mistaken?”

Amicia glanced away, her eyes focusing on the fireplace. “John will make me die a cruel and painful death. He is a vile a man, and he is crueler than Richard.”

“You are putting your own life in danger not only because he is your king.” It sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Exactly. I agreed to be John’s mistress only because I needed to stay at court and spy on him for Richard. I understood all the risks, but I had to do everything to keep Richard safe.”

“Does King Richard know about your relationship with John?”

“The king knows about my affair with John,” Amicia responded, her expression obviously strained. “He wasn’t pleased, but he didn’t reprimand me. I explained that I had to do that because John wooed me and we needed information.” She looked a little distressed. “I don’t know Richard’s true reaction in details, for I haven’t seen him for so long. We use pigeons to carry our messages.”

“Well, let’s hope that our king understands everything.”

Megan rose to her feet. “It is time. I have to go.”

Amicia also stood up. “It is still raining. Where are you planning to stay for the night?”

“Of course, not at the Tower. I will stay at the nearest inn and leave London in the early morning.”

“You are not going to visit your father in Nottingham?”

“No. Not this time.”

Amicia put two hands on Megan’s shoulders. “Promise me to be careful during your trip to Aquitaine.”

“I am always careful,” Megan returned with a smile.

They shared a warm farewell embrace, and then Megan put on her warm velvet coat and a mask on her face. Soon she was walking through the empty corridors. The banquet continued, and she could hear distant sounds of music in the great hall; the danger to risk meeting someone was minimal. She didn’t meet anyone in the deserted part of the Tower, which she used to find her way to the armory and then through the back door outside to the gardens.

In the armory, she raced down the corridor, away from the light of the torches, and then to a side passage where she stopped near the arched wooden door. A few moments later, she emerged into the dark garden next to the Tower, standing under the heavy rain. She put on her hood, and then ran through the dark garden. The cool rain made Megan feel comfortable, but she ignored all inconveniences and kept going ahead. Soon she found the fence that separated the territory of the royal palace from the city of London.

Megan’s horse was tied to the fence. She hopped into the saddle and cantered the horse to the gate. The animal, needless to say, was drenched to the bone, and she hurried to get away. She was just turning into the nearby dark street when in the distance she caught the glimpses of the tall man clad in black leather and another blonde man. Both strangers hunched along in the rain as they mounted their horses and rode off in the opposite direction.

Megan felt enormous relief washing over her as she wouldn’t meet anyone. Her lips curled in a smile that there was someone as desperate to ride under the outrageous rain as she was. Megan didn’t know that the strangers were Sir Guy of Gisborne and Allan-a-dale: they were departing from London to Nottingham in the middle of the night as Guy had ordered Allan to pack their things.

She planned to make a stop for a night in one of the inns in central London to take some rest before departing to Dover in the morning. She had to sail from Dover to Calais, cross the English Channel, and then travel to Aquitaine through the territories of Flanders and France and through the lands of Normandy, Anjou, and finally Poitiers. She was happy to leave England; having grown up at court in Poitiers, she didn’t like England’s rains and dampness, preferring the mild climate of Aquitaine and life at court in Poitiers, in the highly cultured environment of chivalry and courtly love.

A thick fog enveloped London, and the city looked almost unearthly, as if it were floating in the mist. Megan galloped through the empty streets at a frightening speed. As soon as she could no longer see the outlines of the White Tower, she tightened the reigns to decelerate the speed of her horse. Then she took off her mask and put it in her bag that was tied to her saddle behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief that nobody had found out about her short presence at the Tower. Her mission was over.

§§§

Robin of Locksley headed to one of the posts in the outskirts of the Crusaders’ camp to make certain that the night guard was properly performing their duties under the significantly tightened security regime for the king’s protection in the light of the recent bloody massacre in the king’s camp. In the darkness, he saw the red flames of the flickering torches not far away; he quickened his footsteps and marched towards the post of the night guard.

His trained ear helped him hear someone approaching him in the darkness, and he could see the shadow moving around. Then he felt someone’s hand land on his right shoulder, like on the night of the Saracen attack organized by Gisborne. His hand went to the scabbard, and he unsheathed his scimitar. His reaction was quick: he turned around and put a tip of his sword to the man’s throat.

Robin stared at Sir Roger de Tosny, Baron de Conches. "I am sorry," he said as he sheathed his scimitar. "It was just a precautionary measure."

 “I beg your pardon that I followed you,” Roger said apologetically.

“Are you out of your mind?” Robin asked coldly, glowering at the intruder sternly. “What prompted you to follow me like that?” His eyes blazed with anger. “I could have killed you, Roger.”

“I have wanted to talk to you without witnesses for a long time.”

“Very well, then. Speak."

“Guy of Gisborne,” Roger began. “It is about him.”

“Gisborne,” Robin spat. “This man is a high traitor. He must be punished for his crimes, and he will die once we capture him either in the Holy Land if he comes here or in Nottingham after our return to England,” he said with fake indifference that resembled almost arctic coldness; he was amazed that he was able to make his voice sound so cold.

Robin’s voice was so cold that Roger inwardly shuddered. “I know that Guy is a traitor. But he–”

Robin interrupted him. “You have heard enough about Gisborne’s heinous crimes in England from me and my men. He is the Black Knight, and he already attempted regicide once.”

Roger sighed. “Of course, I know.”

“Then what’s the matter, Roger?”

“I knew Guy of Gisborne many years ago,” Roger informed. He felt very uncomfortable. “For several years, he was my squire in Normandy. When I was injured in a tournament, he left my service and disappeared. Only years later, I learned that he was employed by Lord Peter Vaisey.”

There was a flicker of emotion – curiosity and disbelief – in Robin’s eyes, and a small twitch of the cheek; then his face turned blank. “And why are you telling me that?”

“I was very fond of Gisborne when he served me. He was not a bad man.”

“Well, many years passed. Gisborne changed; he became a murderer and a traitor.”

“Robin, I know that he is a traitor. But…” Roger stammered. “Well, but–”

“What?” Robin cut him off. He regarded Roger sternly, a stamp of hostile coldness in every feature of his face. “Don’t tell me that your old affection for a young squire may prevent you from dealing with a despicable traitor who once attempted regicide and is still planning to kill our king. Don’t disappoint the king and me, Roger; the king trusts you and loves you.”

Roger steeled himself against his young captain’s unfriendly demeanor. “I swear I will do my duty to our liege as loyally as I did throughout all these years. I won’t disappoint our king.”

“Then I don’t understand your hesitation. Doesn’t a traitor deserve a death sentence?”

“He does, Robin.”

“What’s wrong with you, Roger?”

“I know why you hate Gisborne, Robin. You wish him dead not only because he is a traitor.”

Robin tensed, curious and alarmed. “And why else?”

“Guy and I were friends when he served me. He told me what happened to him in Locksley.”

“What did he say?”

Roger's frown deepened. “Guy told me how you had almost allowed the villagers to hang him for an act of your mischief with arrows. He said that you hadn’t stood for him when Isabella and Guy had been banished from Locksley after the destruction of Gisborne Manor by the fire.”

“The fire Gisborne started,” Robin bristled hotly. The coldness was gone, supplanted by controlled rage. “He killed my father and his own parents.”

“It was an accident. Guy didn’t do that intentionally,” Roger defended.

“The fact is that Gisborne killed my father, with or without intent,” Robin repeated.

“Even if he disliked your father and didn’t mourn for his death like you did, Guy had already paid for what he did. His life wasn’t easy – it was difficult and miserable.”

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“No, Robin, no. Don’t get me wrong.”

“Then why are you saying that?”

“Because life was unfair to Guy!” Roger exclaimed. “I remember very young Guy. He was a good man, just beaten by life and misunderstood by others. But there was much good in him.”

An odd little smile playing on his lips, Robin spoke in a low, distant voice. “You are talking nonsense. All the humanity Gisborne could ever have in his cold heart died in the red flames of the burning manor.”

"You are unfair," Roger replied uneasily, glancing nervously at the younger man.

“How can you know if you haven’t met Gisborne for years?”

“I cannot believe that Guy has become a monster. I saw goodness in him.”

“Guy of Gisborne is a monster. His heart is black, cold, and evil,” Robin uttered sharply. “Gisborne is no longer a well-behaved young boy. People change over years, and Guy has changed; he has become a cold-blooded murderer, a wretched traitor, and an unscrupulous liar.” He laughed. “He should be grateful that I didn’t kill him in Nottingham; I had many chances to do that but I didn’t.”

“I am sure that Guy was forced to step on a wrong path because he had no other choice, and he had a chance to survive,” Roger mused thoughtfully.

Robin chuckled; Roger’s words reminded him of Marian’s belief in Guy being deep down a good man. He stiffened and looked away. “Was his life in Normandy really so difficult?”

“It was awful. When I met Guy, he and Isabella starved and wore dirty old rags.”

“A sad story.” Robin could not help but feel a rush of pity at the images of hungry and ragged Guy scattering through his mind. His face was very white, and one corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

“You pity Guy and Isabella?”

“Yes, in a way.”

“I know that Guy did many bad things,” Roger agreed. “But who is at fault? Not only Guy.”

“And who?” Robin was angry with Roger for broaching the most painful subject.

Giving Robin an accusing glare, Roger arraigned his captain, “When you, Robin, enjoyed an easy life of comfort and luxury in Locksley and in Huntingdon, Guy struggled for his survival in Normandy. You were the lord of vast lands and held the rich earldom, including the Gisborne former lands, while Guy’s family was disgraced and he downgraded to a peasant’s life. You had a house, an access to the best education, your people loved and admired you; Guy had nothing, barely able to support himself and his sister. Later you became the king’s favorite who is admired and loved by everyone; Guy was still the same miserable man and an outcast, and it is partly your fault that he had to step on a wrong path.”

Robin’s face twisted into exaggerated shock. “You think you know everything, right?”

“Guy told me that–“

A disconcerted Robin interrupted his companion. “I don’t care what Gisborne said. He doesn’t know many things about me,” he said in a lighter tone that sounded immensely tired.

There was the rustling of Robin’s tunic and his quiet, unclear lament as he turned away, which seemed like a shudder running through the desert air. Robin sat down on the sand, his gaze fixed at the distant bonfire. He dug his fingers into the sand, angry and consumed by his grief, his throat swelling with grief he wanted to suppress. He thought his heart would break from grief. It was stupid of him to let himself have those moments of grief, but he was powerless to stop those thoughts.

It was a grief over many painful things that rankled with him since early childhood: the death of his father and his loneliness; the calamity with Bailiff Longhorn’s assassination attempts on his life; his all-consuming hatred for Gisborne whom he blamed for Malcolm’s death; the loss of Marian to Gisborne, and even the burden of being a hero, which nobody understood and even wanted to understand. He dreamed of many other happy things that were not destined to happen; and little remained but his loyalty and duty to the king upon which his life now rested, as well as his desire to forget about the betrayals of the people whom he had loved. He only hoped to find some solace in his duty to his liege, but the images of the past loomed everywhere, embodying Marian and what he had lost.

Roger de Tosny stared at Robin’s head full of impishly cut golden-brownish hair, the willful sandy strands dancing in the light breeze. He saw the deep flush spreading across Robin's face. He felt ashamed of himself that he had caused the painful memories to rise up from some dusty corner of his captain’s mind, and he felt guilty, for he respected and admired Robin in spite of Robin’s treatment of Guy in childhood. Roger was shocked with the news that Guy, the man whom he had once cared for and loved, was a high traitor whom he must capture and hand to the king for execution.

“Robin,” Roger called softly.

“My father’s death brought much misery into my life,” Robin said coldly, wondering if he should continue, but it was worth a try. “I was a child when my father died. I turned seven years old in several weeks after the fire.” He paused, collecting his composure. “I felt as if I were alone in the whole world, although my father’s old friend, Sir Edward, tried to help me.”

“And your mother?” he asked cautiously.

“My mother died in childbirth.” Robin’s voice was icy chill. “I killed her by being born.”

Roger felt culpable. He was sure that Robin blamed himself for his mother’s death. “It is not your fault, Robin. Many women die in childbirth.”

“I don’t blame myself for my mother’s death, for she died from childbed fever,” Robin dissipated the other man’s suspicions. "I still remember myself on the night of the fire. I was looking at the burning manor, and I was very scared. There was a panic in the village, and I could hear the people's loud screams that the manor must be burnt down to the ground to prevent the disease from spreading." He ran his hand over his eyes, and shook his head distressingly. "Their shouts were outrageous and desperate, and I could do nothing to stop them."

"And you were afraid of leprosy, Robin?"

"I was barely seven years old, Roger. Wouldn't you be scared if you were in my shoes?"

"I would."

A despondent Robin looked down, on the sand. "Everything seemed unreal and unbelievable. The world was whirling around me; I wanted to stop it but I couldn't." He paused for a moment, ignoring a stab of pain in his heart at his own words. "Chaos was everywhere – in Locksley, in Nottingham, in my life, and in my head. Although Sir Edward and the priest took good care of me during the weeks that followed the fire, I was in a state of deep shock."

"It is understandable."

“After the fire, there were several cases of leprosy in Locksley,” Robin asserted, his voice edged with anger. “Sir Roger of Gisborne was the only leper who was recently banished and declared dead in Nottinghamshire. Those people could have contracted leprosy only from him.”

“Really?” Roger looked at Robin with interest.

"Yes," Robin corroborated. "I still don't understand why that night Sir Roger of Gisborne came to Locksley from the forest, where he lived in a leper colony. He knew that he was dying and that he could cause more deaths! While leprosy doesn’t spread at the snap of fingers, it is still an infectious mortal disease, which is why lepers are isolated from others.” A look of disbelief crossed his face. “Why did Sir Roger ignore that? Was it a deliberate action, foolishness, or irresponsibility?"

Roger assumed cautiously, "Maybe there were some reasons.”

"There is nothing that can justify Sir Roger's reckless and selfish behavior," Robin countered, his expression as hard as granite. "Maybe he knew that he was dying and wanted to wreak havoc in the village of Locksley before meeting the Lord?”

"Robin, you are being very extreme in your judgment.”

Robin rebuffed the attempts of the other man to overturn the situation in favor of Guy’s father. “No, I am being fair and rational! No responsible and caring man will come to a densely populated village when he is dying of leprosy!" He glared at his companion. "Or are you going to refute that, Roger?"

Roger was defeated; he agreed with Robin. “I won’t object. You are right, Robin.”

“And then the dreadful assassination attempts on my life began,” Robin continued.

Roger stared at him in shock. “What?”

His sandy-colored brows drew together. “I was the small and rich Earl of Huntingdon, a full orphan. I was helpless and vulnerable, and there were some people who craved to take a part of my lands from me.” He frowned at the memory of the bailiff’s viperous face. “Bailiff Longthorn wanted to take the Locksley estates for himself, but there was an obstacle – I was alive.”

De Tosny shot a startled look. “What did he do?”

The young captain laughed. “Interested? Did I put you over my spell instead of Gisborne’s?”

Roger shook his head. “I am sympathetic to Guy because I know how much he suffered.”

Robin laughed, and Roger cringed. Roger had never heard his optimistic captain laugh with the full surrender to bitterness and despair.

Robin looked pensive. “And do you know how much I suffered due to the fact that Guy of Gisborne murdered my father?” A painful expression contorted his features. “The bailiff sought my death and tried to kill me several times after the fire. After every unsuccessful attempt on my life, I had to recover for a long while.” His voice was hollow. “The final assassination attempt was… the horror of my whole life.” His voice took a lower octave. “I don’t know how I survived those three months in captivity. I was a young scared boy, locked in a damp and cold dungeon. I was beaten every day. I was given only some bread and a little water; I starved almost to death.”

“Holy Mother of God!” Roger crossed himself.

Robin watched the other man, his eyes glowing with the pain that blossomed inside him as tragic memories whirled in his mind. “By the time I was released from captivity, I had been so badly injured that I had contacted a high fever. I was almost dead, and my physician didn’t think that I would survive,” he continued. His jaw clenched, his body tensed. “Since then, I often feared to sleep alone in the darkness, but over time this fear somehow eased. Nightmares have been haunting me since then as well.”

“I am sorry, Robin.” The man looked abashed.

“Don’t be sorry when it is not your fault,” Robin hissed, his tone edged with hatred.

“You blame Guy, don’t you?”

Robin shot Roger a thorny gaze. “And whom should I blame?” He smirked. “Maybe the Lord or the Devil? Perhaps, King Henry or Queen Eleanor? Maybe, my poor father or even myself?” He blurted out the words that were nothing more than an exaggerated bravado of a wounded heart; he chose the most improbable culprits to mock Roger. Little did he know how deadly his witty arrow hit its mark.

De Tosny sighed. “The fire was an accident.”

“This accident with the most tragic consequences was caused by Gisborne,” Robin nearly screamed. His fingers traced the pattern of a red cross emblazoned on his tunic. “Certainly, it is only Gisborne’s fault!” A lash of pain and hatred went through his heart. “If Gisborne hadn’t dropped a torch, my father would have been alive. Then Bailiff Longthorn would have never tried to kill me! I would have never been kidnapped and abducted!”

Roger heard a slight tremble in his captain’s voice. “Robin, I am really sorry to hear that.”

Robin was far from being immune to Roger’s accusations, wondering if the other man could guess how many of his own thoughts he had vocalized. Robin knew that Gisborne’s life was far from being sweet and easy after the banishment from Locksley. He often wondered how Gisborne lived in Normandy, and he pitied Guy. Gisborne’s hateful, expressive, steel blue eyes haunted Robin for years, together with the visions of the fire and the misery which his father’s death brought to the young lord. Robin knew that he should have treated the Gisborne siblings with more kindness, and he felt guilty.

Robin could have found Guy and Isabella in Normandy, but for many years he had chosen not to do that; his heart had told him that it was the right thing to do, but he had refused to listen to its voice. Hatred for Gisborne, his father’s murderer, had blinded him and had made him wish Guy to suffer. Every time the nobles of Nottingham had called him _‘a boy lord’_ , laughing at his ability to manage his estates and take care of his people, he had missed his father; it had only strengthened his hatred for Guy, banning from his head thoughts of finding the exiled man in Normandy.

The older Robin was becoming, the guiltier he felt. The guilt was eating his heart for so long, but he would never acknowledge that to anyone but to himself. Once he had told Richard the story about his father’s death and the banishment of Guy and Isabella from Locksley, as well as his role in the matter. Richard had said soothingly that it had never been Robin’s fault and had strongly discouraged him from finding Gisborne. Later he had again shared with Richard his idea of searching for Guy, but the lion had said that Robin shouldn’t have wasted time for nothing.

Twice he had sent two men to find Gisborne in Normandy; those people had returned without any news, and Robin hadn’t make new attempts for some time. Despite Richard’s displeasure, Robin himself had traveled to Normandy and had even found Ghislaine’s family there; he had been informed that the Gisbornes had stayed with their mother’s relatives only shortly. He had discovered no traces of Guy and had departed to Poitiers. Yet, Robin had felt that his path would intersect with Gisborne’s in one way or another. He had confessed to Richard about his unsuccessful attempt, and the king had again allayed him that he had done nothing wrong.

Robin raised his eyes to Roger. “Roger, you don’t know everything, and neither does Gisborne. It is easy to judge when you are only a third party.”

Roger seated himself on the sand. “Robin, I didn’t mean–“

“Oh, you meant exactly what you said,” Robin said with a sneer, as well as with a genuine bitterness, though his tone could not help being ill-disposed. “Although we have fought in Acre for years, we have never been friends. You may admire me, but you have always lacked the respect others have for me. There has been something about me that made you cringe.” He sighed. “Now I know the reason.”

“I have always admired you. And I have respected you.”

“Not like others,” Robin corrected.

“I have respected you enough.”

“It has been a cold respect, but there has been a certain barrier between us.”

“That’s an understatement to say.”

“Actually, it is of no importance.”

A sullen Robin gazed away. “I know what you can say about me, what you want to say. I know what many others think of me.” He looked back at Roger, his face suddenly splitting into a sly grin. “Everyone can say that the Earl of Huntingdon is spoiled by people’s love and the king’s love and that his life is easy and iconic. They can say that Huntingdon is heroic, brave, honorable, and foolhardy, but that he is a swaggerer and braggart; some may say that Huntingdon is a shallow man. Some will say that the famous earl has no regrets and no problems and no burdens – his life is carefree, easy, and glorious.” He laughed bitterly. “Yet, they still respect and admire Captain Locksley or Robin Hood, whatever name you choose for me, for his bravery and heroics, and legends spread about his adventures.”

“You exaggerate, Robin.” Roger felt his cheeks turning crimson. He didn’t expect that Robin would be so frank; he had thought that Robin had cared much more about the love his heroic reputation instilled in the minds and hearts of others.

Robin’s jaw tightened, but he let out a plaintive smile. “No, I don’t. You think that I don’t understand how fickle and pretentious the love they have for me is. I understand everything, but I try not to think of that!” He chuckled. “And if you believe in that, then you are grievously mistaken.”

“Robin, your men love, admire, and respect you.”

A momentary frown crossed the sandy-haired man’s face. “No, not everyone, and you are the best example.” He paused, sighing. There was a strange flicker in his eyes when he went on. “It is _not the love what people have for the Earl of Huntingdon or for Robin Hood_ , whatever they call me. It is _admiration_ , one of the ficklest feelings a man can have; and _it is envy, a dragon with venomous eyes_ , one of the bitterest emotions a man can harbor in his heart.” He laughed painfully. “If they all knew more about me and my life, they wouldn’t have loved me at all, or would have loved me less than they do.”

“Robin, I…” Roger lapsed into silence abruptly.

Robin arched a brow, his expression deadly sarcastic. “What, Roger? You didn’t expect that the heroic Robin Hood has such thoughts. Maybe you are just dazzled by the dazzling brightness of my heroic persona? All or almost all who have ever encountered me had their hearts stolen by that brightness, and perhaps it is your case as well.” A sardonic laugh tumbled from his lips. “Admirers and worshipers always envy all heroes. They don’t know that heroic hearts are vulnerable to death and that the knowledge of their envy is like a slow-acting poison in your blood. Do you suppose that this knowledge makes me happy?”

Robin’s dry, morbid humor struck Roger in the heart, like one of his captain’s arrows could. “Robin, people of England and your comrades love you genuinely.” He raised his voice and added, “Genuinely, Robin! You are a good man and a hero in so many ways, and we all know this. You saved our king many times, and you did many good things–“

“Spare me your flattery,” Robin retorted, obviously irritated. “Knowing that everyone loves you with this capricious or false love is like drinking some poison and waiting for your own death! It is worse than living in a world of fantasies and illusions! But I know what they feel for me, and that makes me feel better, in a way. Blessed is the one who is admired and loved but is not envied.”

“Yes, it is true. Unfortunately, many people suffer from the monster called envy.”

Robin fell into thoughtfulness. “People think that if you are a royal favorite, you should be happy and your life is easy and you glide through your days effortlessly. The colors of their love are so bright, and they heap you with both deserved and feigned praise, and they embellish you with compliments and heaps of effusive praise until you begin to feel sick. They think that if you are a hero, you are loved and admired by everyone and that you blossom like a flower in this love.” He shook his head, laughing tragically, either at himself or at the world. After a pause, he resumed speaking. “These people are wrong. Robin of Locksley also has deep regrets and burdens; he is also capable of hating and being angry, despite the goodness he tries to represent. Many of Robin Hood’s admirers envy him, and their jealousy comes from wanting something they don’t have – his glory, his royal favor, and the love he supposedly generates and enjoys. But his grief comes from losing something one might think the hero must have – the illusion of love.”

“Regrets with regards to Gisborne?”

"Partly,” Robin said. “I told you that you don’t know everything.” He was barely able to speak; his mouth was as dry as the sand under his feet. “My father’s death caused much pain to many people. It almost took my own life; I could have been dead for years now.”

“Robin… I…” Roger didn’t know what to say.

“Are you shocked, or maybe surprised?” Robin laughed, displaying a deep dimple in the cleft of his chin. “Robin of Locksley is not only a hero! He is a human being, a usual man as well, with his own regrets and burdens; he also has a right to make a mistake. The love which the king, his comrades, and his people have for him may also be a tantalizing and heavy burden.”

Roger stared at him, startled. “I never thought of people’s love as a burden.”

Robin put a hand on the other man’s shoulder; he smiled wanly. “They think you are a hero and love you for that, but this gives you a load of responsibility, often a very heavy one.” His voice took a lower octave. “You don’t need to know everything, Roger, but I assure you that I saw a large share of trouble and misery after my father’s death; Gisborne wasn’t the only one who suffered.”

“I thought that you lived happily after Gisborne’s banishment, and so did Guy. He–“

“Gisborne was mistaken.”

“Maybe you will talk to him and sort the things out?”

“No,” Robin was quick to deny. “It would be a waste of time. Gisborne is a man who thinks only of himself and his troubles. He only blames others for his own mistakes.”

“I think that you misunderstood each other.”

“We didn’t even try to understand,” Robin pointed out.

§§§

Roger de Tosny felt a sudden flood of sympathy towards Robin, and that made him feel an ounce of the pain and responsibility the hero must have carried on his shoulders trying to make the world a better place. Roger thought that Robin was something like a layer of darkness against a layer of bright light or fire against water; he didn’t know Robin but he wanted to.

Roger gave Robin an appraising look. “Robin, you are so different now.”

“Astonished?” Robin chuckled. He took a handful of sand in his hand and then threw it on the ground. “I prefer to keep my emotions to myself. You have just cornered me tonight.”

“I don’t know you well enough.”   

“And you don’t need to, for you will anyway fail to see the true myself,” Robin said rhetorically. As his mind strolled back to Gisborne, he felt as if a chill went through him and the hairs on his neck stood; he hated the man with all his heart. “As for Gisborne, I may only promise that Gisborne will have a fair trial and that I won’t kill him like a dog, unless the cases when I have to do that to save the king, anyone else, or myself. Everything is in the king’s hands; the king may be even merciful if he sees genuine value in Gisborne, which I, however, fail to find.”

“King Richard will execute Guy.” Roger sounded sorrowful.

“Gisborne deserves execution, and I don’t care for him.”

Roger laid his long fingers on Robin's arm. “I know that Guy committed grave crimes, but I believe that he deserves a chance.”

Robin brushed his fingers off of his arm. “What?” His hatred for Guy clamped his throat in an iron grip. “Why on earth should I care for Gisborne? Why should I want to help this damned traitor, who tried to kill our king, caused the deaths of my father and his own parents, killed many of my friends, killed countless innocents, and tried to kill me so many times?” He dragged in a breath, feeling anger wash over him like floodwater. “If someone can give him a chance, it is definitely not me. Gisborne wants me dead; he sleeps and dreams of my death.”

“He hated you when I met him,” Roger agreed.

“I know. Gisborne fiercely hates me, and I hate him,” Robin responded, his lips curling in a lethal smirk. “Gisborne will stab me from the back if he has any chance! He craves to spill my blood! He wants to kill me even more than I wish him dead!” He drew his fingers along his cheek, and then smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead. “If you give Gisborne a chance, he will not know how to use it. He will never become a good man and will continue killing innocents.”

“You have already written Guy off as a man who can atone for his sins. I don’t agree with you.”

“It is your right.”

“Robin, listen, maybe–”

“No maybe,” Robin cut him off sharply. “The king will do as it pleases him, and we – you and I – will obey him. Do you hear me, Roger?”

“Yes, I do hear you very well.”

“Roger, you must tell King Richard about your association with the high traitor who tried to kill him. Our liege must know your back story with Gisborne. If you don’t do that, I will have to act as the king’s loyal subject and captain of the private guard.”

“I will make a report to the king tomorrow,” Roger pledged. “If he sees that I am not fit to deal with the Black Knights due to my subjective attitude to Guy of Gisborne, then so be it.”

“Very well. Thank you.”

“I will fulfill my duty, Robin. Don’t doubt that.” Roger sighed. “But it is still difficult to imagine that Guy and I are enemies.”

Robin stood up from the sand. “By the way, I tried to find Gisborne in Normandy – I sent my people there twice. And I did even a more foolish thing – I went there several weeks before our departure to Acre. Yet, neither my people nor I myself found any trace of Gisborne in Normandy.” He pursed his lips. “I didn’t know that by that time Gisborne had already sold his soul to the devil – he already worked for Vaisey.”

“You tried to find Guy?” De Tosny looked dumbfounded.

Robin smiled mysteriously. “I did, but God didn’t want us to meet earlier.” His face turned harsh. “And our first meeting happened in the king’s tent when your dear friend Guy almost killed the king and me, your captain.” The last words were uttered with venomous sarcasm.

“I didn’t think that you could ever try to find him,” Roger said calmly, still abashed.

Robin remained silent for a long moment, too much preoccupied with unpleasant feelings about Gisborne to speak. Then he laughed and said to his comrade in an undertone, "Good lord, Roger! Be infinitely alarmed and constantly amazed. Then nothing will ever shock you.” He smiled enigmatically. “Goodnight.” Then he walked away, heading to his tent.

Roger de Tosny remained alone in the desert, under the shining stars in the dark sky. His mind raced through the conversation with Robin. He always admired Robin, but he had thought that the man had considered himself only a hero, ignoring his own faults; now he saw that he was mistaken. He wondered how many mysteries Robin of Locksley was hiding from the world and his friends. Robin’s confession refuted that he was as vain, insolent, and haughty and as Roger had thought before, and he deduced that his captain had many layers of personality – he suddenly found himself willing to see the true Robin.

Robin returned to his tent, intending to drink some wine and then go to bed. Yet, he had to change his plans as he discovered Lady Melisende Plantagenet, his young bride, inside. He paused at the entrance and stared at Melisende who stood near his bed holding his Saracen recurved bow in one arm and one of Robin’s arrows in the other. He didn’t know why she had come to his tent, for he thought that she would be in Acre tonight. For a brief moment, Robin’s expression was stupefied before changing into a wide grin as he watched Melisende stroking the white feathers on his arrow.

As she heard the light footsteps, Melisende swung around to face Robin. “My dear Earl of Huntingdon, you finally returned! Welcome back to your cozy home in the temple of your fame!” A wicked smile curved her full lips, and she put the bow on the bed, still holding an arrow in her arm.

Robin came to her and bowed in accordance with the rules of etiquette. “Lady Melisende, I didn’t expect to find you here. I thought that you would spend this evening in the Citadel of Acre.”

“Richard sent his messenger to Acre and invited me to a private dinner,” she enlightened. “I hope you are not offended that today my cousin and I preferred loneliness to everyone’s company, even yours.”

“No need to worry, everything is fine.”

“Richard’s guards couldn’t find you while we had a dinner, and I took the matter into my own hands.” She glanced into his eyes. “I came here because I wanted to see you.”

“I thought of you,” he admitted.

Staring at each other, Robin and Melisende stood in a silence for a long moment.

Melisende looked stunning in her trendy gown made out of purple and gray silk, with georgette hanging sleeves and gold trim on a low square-cut neckline. His eyes met hers, and he felt as if he were a bird singing a mirthful song about happiness. There was a majestic oval cut diamonds necklace around her slender neck. He let his eyes dwell on her seductive forms, feeling his loins swell with desire. She was a beautiful temptress in her every movement, no matter how proper or improper her words, dress, or manners were.

Melisende caught his eye, smiling slyly, her violet eyes glowing. She took in his handsome appearance, again amazed that Robin was so slender and yet so proportionally built. Robin's eyes, blue like the water in a sea and an azure sky in warm weather, hypnotized her. She wished to feel the touch of his hands, calloused and yet gentle, on her tender skin. Since she had accepted his marriage proposal, she dreamt of his hands unlacing her gown and then trailing over her bare skin beneath.

She knew that he also wanted her as much as she wanted him, and he was aware of that. They both longed to become flesh against flesh, to feel a perfect sensation of her skin against his. They were pleased that they were so obviously physically attracted to each other in spite of the fact that their marriage had been arranged by King Richard for political reasons.

Melisende flashed a smile. “Did you enjoy your romantic stroll under the beautiful night sky, milord?”

Robin smiled back; she was irresistible in her teasing. “Please excuse me for making you wait for me, my lady.”

“You are forgiven, but only this time and because I didn’t wait for you for long.”

“Well, my stroll wasn’t a pleasant one. Some nights are made for torture, some for contemplation, some for savoring of loneliness, and some for unexpected surprises.”

Melisende eyed him with concern. “Is everything alright?”

“I am fine. No worries,” he replied in an amicable tone. “I just had a frank conversation with one of my comrades. We talked about some… controversial things, and it unsettled me a little bit.”

Looking suddenly very serious, Melisende spoke in a slow and confident voice. “Huntingdon, you are a man of contradictions and contrasts.” She chuckled. “You are too sure of yourself, too arrogant and confident that everyone will always do your bidding. I like you for that because I am like you in many ways." She laughed. “Then you become contemplative and wistful, vulnerable and unsure of yourself. Then you are again a handsome cheeky rogue who saves England, the king, and everyone.” Her eyebrows rose. “But you are rarely being completely yourself; you always hide your fears and insecurities.”

Robin was amazed at her shrewdness. “You have a great understanding of my character. Very few people understood what you managed to learn in a few weeks.” He sighed. “I prefer to wear a mask.”

“You are flattering me.”

“You know that I would sooner tease and mock than flatter.”

Melisende traced the full length of the arrow with her fingers. “Huntingdon, I quickly noticed that your tongue is too poisonous when we met in the moonlit garden in Limassol.”

He looked at the arrow in her hand, grinning sheepishly. “Oh, I see you were not alone while I wasn’t here – you had my Saracen bow and my arrows.” His grin turned wider. “What are you doing with my weapons? Aren’t you afraid that you can make a mistake and wound yourself by chance?”

She scoffed. “Is it your principle to always tease me?”

“I am acting in my usual manner, and you are doing the same.”

“Well, you are a worthy opponent in our verbal skirmishes.”

“You never know who will win, my lady.”

She smiled. “Always in competition?”

“Not in everything, Lady Melisende,” he retorted cheerfully, the corners of his lips trembling in a small smile. “You have a deadly hand with a sword, but you have forgotten that I am the best archer.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ah, what a fool I am to doubt that! You are Robin Hood!”

He leaned against the bedpost, and she could see a roguish twinkle in his eyes. “As I am the nearest to you breathing creature, I want to have a tricky target practice right now. It will amuse you.”

Her eyes danced with mischief. “It would be great fun, particularly if we practice in the darkness, although I doubt that your aim might be as deadly as it could be in the daytime.” She failed to understand why he wanted to shoot in the darkness.

Robin grabbed his bow and a full quiver of arrows; his scimitar was sheathed and fastened to his sword belt. Grinning at her, he motioned Melisende to go out, and she followed him, smiling at him.

Robin stopped Melisende near the entrance to his own tent. “Stay here, Lady Melisende.”

She looked puzzled. “What are you planning, Lord Huntingdon?”

He drew his scimitar and took several steps aside. He crouched and drove his sword into the sand with the tip down. He buried half of the blade into the sand, so the hilt looked heavenward.

“Now I will show you something.”

She was more confused than before. “What are you going to do, milord?”

Robin turned his gaze back to her. “Usually, I use a more suitable aim for target practice, like a trunk of a tree; but we are not in the woods.” He grinned. “And I want to have an extravagant practice.”

They made several steps aside from the place where Robin had buried his sword into the sand. Robin took an arrow from his quiver and prepared to shoot. He nocked an arrow that soared into the night sky. Then Robin nocked the second arrow, and in the next moment the first arrow struck the hilt of the sword; then it ricocheted off of the metallic hilt and flew away. Robin shot the third arrow heavenward, and next instant the second air whizzed in the air and also hit the hilt of the scimitar. Acting in the same manner, Robin fired another arrow, and then the third arrow struck the hilt of the weapon. He repeated the same actions until there were no arrows left in the quiver.

Melisende gave an eager smile. “You are showing your talents off, you braggart!”

“Always,” Robin said proudly. “Did you like it?”

"I did like it," she said immediately. “All arrows hit the target in the darkness with deadly accuracy.”

“Look at the arrows! Look attentively!”

“What?”

“Look,” he insisted.

Melisende’s face lit up with a beaming smile at the picture before her eyes: each of Robin’s arrows embedded itself into the sand in an inch from the blade after it had ricocheted off the hilt. She laughed merrily as her eyes registered a perfect small circle of arrows around the weapon.

She swung her heated gaze of admiration to Robin. “This is unbelievable and majestic!”

He made a mocking bow. “Well, I am glad that I pleased you.”

“You really amused me, Huntingdon,” she cried out incredulously.

Playing with the string of his bow, Robin looked somewhere into the air with a melancholic expression, feeling as if the past were lurking in the darkness, just out of reach of his hand. He remembered Marian’s reaction to the same trick with arrows – he could imagine her dazzling smile and he could hear her exuberant praises of him. He shook his head, determined to let the ghosts go. His life was disordered since he had left England, but now he felt that he could return to a starting point in his private life and build a new life with his fiancée. He was ready – almost ready – to move on.

Melisende noticed Robin’s subtle mood swing, wondering what was happening in his head. She learned to understand him very well, but at times he still seemed a mystery to her. There was something in Robin’s past she didn’t know, and she craved to uncover Robin’s secrets. As she observed him sinking into melancholy from excitement, these swings reminded her of an elusive rhythm, a fragment of lost words and empty hopes. She felt her heart beating faster and faster, waiting for Robin to look at her. As he veered his gaze to her, her heart blossomed like a flower.

“Lady Melisende, are you going back to Acre? It is already rather late.”

She nodded. “Yes, Lord Robin. Richard asked Lord Leicester to accompany me to Acre.” She released a sigh. “I came to you only for a minute; only to see you.”

“I can take you to Acre,” he offered, his lips lengthening in a smile. “But only on one condition.”

“What?” She was glad that the darkness covered her flushing cheeks.

“Call me Robin. After all, we are betrothed.”

Melisende laughed. “A little bird,” she drawled every word.

Robin winked at her. “A lionet,” he teased.

“A lionet and a little bird,” she teased back.

“Very, very true,” he said in singsong tones; he withdrew his scimitar from the sand and sheathed it.

“Shall we go, Robin?” Melisende asked.

“A moment, Melisende,” he replied, pleased to be more personal with her.

Robin called his squire, Lionel, and ordered him to tuck away all the traces of the target practice. Then he extended his hand to Melisende and she took it with a smile. They walked to the nearby post in the camp as Robin needed to take at least ten guards for the trip to Acre. The outcome of the evening was very positive as Robin and Melisende felt closer and became more familiar with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady Amicia de Beaumont is Guy’s former lover. We needed someone from Guy’s past to have a glimpse of Guy’s private life. They will never be lovers again, only friends.Amicia will play an important role in this story. She is King Richard’s personal spy, and she spies on Prince John during the king’s absence. She is also connected to Robin, and she actually likes him, and she shares with Guy some facts about Robin’s private life in an attempt to change his opinion about Robin. Of course, Guy is angry with her, and he is unwilling to see the truth, but he listens and remembers her words.
> 
> Guy knows that Amicia is a spy and she is his enemy, but he doesn’t kill her and he lets her go. He even gives her his new sword to supply her with a weapon after she gets rid of her French sword, which can expose her as the culprit behind the murder of the three guards at the Tower when they accidentally discovered her secret activities. That shows that Guy’s heart is not entirely black and there is good in him. He also cannot hurt Amicia because she was once his lover and she treated him with kindness while others despised and mocked him.
> 
> I am trying to prepare Guy to break from Vaisey, and Guy’s inner conflict is becoming sharper and more painful, bringing him closer to culmination in part 2 “Mysteries Unveiled”. Guy is slowly moving towards the point when he will be ready to break from Vaisey. Making a good man out of Guy is a slow process and a very difficult task for a writer, for that just cannot happen in one day. I cannot accelerate the process – otherwise the evolution of Guy’s character will be unnatural and chaotic.
> 
> We spoke a lot about the sophisticated old conflict between Robin and Guy, but we didn’t have Robin’s point of view until this chapter. This chapter ends the back story for these two men, and now we have the complete picture of what happened in the past and tied Guy and Robin together forever.
> 
> In Robin’s frank conversation with Roger de Tosny, we learn many details about Robin’s misfortunes in the aftermath of the fire and Malcolm’s presumed death. Here we have Robin’s memories of the day of the fire and some information about the assassination attempts on his life from Robin’s point of view. And in this scene, Robin shows his naked soul as Roger corners him by confronting him about the unfair treatment of Guy and Isabella in childhood: he speaks about the load of being a hero and the people’s love for him. There were the moments on the show, when Robin spoke lightly about these things, but he always did that in his own specific, Robin-like way, showing his true attitude to the matter in a whimsical manner; but in this chapter, I wanted Robin to be frank.


	17. A Thwarted Regicide Attempt

**Chapter 17**

**A Thwarted Regicide Attempt**

Robin of Locksley spent the evening with Much, Little John, and Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, as well as Carter Leighton of Stretton, Baron Clifton. They had a lavish dinner in Robin’s tent. The only table in the tent was heavily laden with fish, roasted chicken, goose, stew, poultry, and fish soups, poached quail, several sauces, and bowls overflowing with apples, grapes, pears, and hothouse strawberries. With King Richard’s permission, Robin and Robert took a bottle of rare French red wine from the king’s private collection for the small feast.

After the massacre in the king’s camp, the general environment was gloomy. Robin himself was in a state of tremendous melancholy, for it seemed to him that the old times returned and they would probably have to live through several Saracen raids every day. Now there was no reason to have a lavish feast on the battlefield, but they chose to have some entertainment in order to improve their spirits. Anyway, they drank only small amounts of wine, so that they didn’t risk becoming inebriated.

“I am so hungry! I am so happy that we have a great choice of delicacies!” Much exclaimed. Looked at a large platter of roasted chicken, goose, and stew, he licked his lips, and his stomach rumbled, and he smiled at the sight of delicious food. “God bless King Richard for giving us all this food!”

Robin smiled softly. “Eat, my friend. Eat everything you want.”

Robin was pleased that Much enjoyed the evening. He knew Much for around twenty years, and he couldn't imagine his life without the ever-hungry man. He wondered how he would even get through the day in the Holy Land without Much's constant anxiety for his life and protection of his back, without Much's constant care that was able to wash away his fears and remind him of his importance to someone, who loved him so dearly and gave him unconditional loyalty despite all the horrors they had seen and all the crimes they had committed in the name of God and the king. Although he had never admitted that aloud, Robin understood that if Much hadn't accompanied him to the Holy Land many years ago, he would have probably died a long time ago.

“I have never thought that I would have such a good meal in the Holy Land,” Little John said.

Carter smiled. “The meal is fabulous. King Richard’s French cook is great!” He delicately nibbled a piece of tender roasted chicken, then drank some red wine. He smiled at John who put a large piece of goose into his mouth, swallowing it like a pigeon. The pieces John ate were as large as John himself, Carter mused with a silent laugh. Carter always ate very slowly, enjoying the taste of the delicious meal.

“How hard it must be to cook a decent meal at the war court,” John speculated. “We are in the Holy Land, and yet our king has the best cooks to prepare a dinner.”

As they arrived in Acre, Little John expected to be given bad food, consisting of bread, stew, and water, but definitely not fine delicacies. He knew that he could enjoy the privileges given to Robin, Robert, and Carter thanks to the high royal favor they enjoyed; yet, it still seemed strange to John. Every time John entered Robin’s tent, as well as Carter’s tent or once Robert’s tent, his eyes were like saucers as he surveyed rich hangings, rugs, and tasseled cushions of dazzling opalescent hues. The king’s high favor meant a great deal for the quality of life in the Holy Land.

Robert smiled with a tense smile. “King Richard summoned his cook from Aquitaine a while ago. As the man was employed by Queen Eleanor for several years, he learned a lot about King Richard’s delicious tastes while working at the royal court.”

"Oh, King Richard has exquisite taste in wine and food!” Little John sputtered.

As he finished a platter of goose and potato, Much began eating fish. “Our king has great taste in everything.” He smiled widely. “Oh, this food is so… delicious! Such soft fish! Such delicious goose!”

Robin rested his elbow on the table, watching the interchange in silent amusement. He turned his gaze to Robert, and their eyes locked. The raw pain was revealed in the pale blue and the pale green orbs. They both remembered how they had starved during the siege of Acre, their hearts almost collapsing at the memories of how many men had died from hunger, weakness, and sickness.

“I am glad that this meal is such a fun,” Robin said meaningfully.

John eyed Robin. “Robin, what is wrong with you?”

Robin ate more of his poached quail dish and fish sauce, which lay on a silver platter before him. “I am fine, John,” he said absently, slightly hiking a brow. “I just remembered days of war.”

Robert cleared his throat. “During the siege of Acre, the king’s army starved as Saladin set a blockade around Acre, and English ships couldn’t deliver food to the Crusaders,” he declared in a low voice. “Many soldiers didn’t have for so long what they considered being good things of life. Our men endured heat, hunger, and sickness.” He sighed heavily. “Usually, soldiers had very poor rations: a thick, heavily spiced sausage, several sticks of goat cheese, a jar of olives pickled in brine, and a loaf of still-fresh bread.” He sipped some wine. “The situation wasn’t as good as it is now.”

“Even for high-ranking generals?” John was stunned.

“For everyone,” a sad Robin replied, looking into John's eyes. “Now, when I am again in the Holy Land, I feel as if I were living in a fairy-tale as compared to the days when we besieged Acre.” He sighed. “In the worst time, all of us had only some unappetizing pieces of bread, salted beef, and stew, which could be as tough as leather, some of their sides splotched with green.” He took a goblet and tossed its contents down his throat. “All we could do was to sniff at the food and wrinkle our noses in disgust, but we had to eat just to stay alive.”

“Yeah, I know a lot of that time.” Carter’s voice was melancholic. “Thomas wrote in his letters to me that the Crusaders starved to death. At times, he had no physical strength to hold his sword and envied you, Robin, and you, Robert, as well as Roger de Lacy, as you were ones of the very few who used Saracen scimitars.” He coughed nervously. “Damascus steel weapons are lighter.”

Robin nodded. “It is true.” He looked into his half-empty platter. When he raised his head, his expression was grave. “There were times when I found it difficult to fight because we all were starved.”

“Thomas wrote that you, Robin and Robert, gave away all additional food that the king distributed to you as his chief war commanders,” Carter remarked respectfully. “I was amazed to learn that.”

“It is true.” Robin sipped wine. “We did everything we could to ease everyone’s sufferings.”

Little John smiled, looking between Robin and Robert. “I can easily believe that.”

“But life improved after the capture of Acre,” Robin said.

Robert smiled wryly. “King Richard was brilliant in the days preceding the battle for Acre,” he said proudly. Then he winked at Robin. “And Robin and I were named Heroes of Acre after we led so many effective and highly-risky charges on the Saracen garrison in Acre.”

Robin raised his chin. “It seems to me that our half a plan to neutralize the Saracens who guarded the Gates of Acre was one of the most outrageous campaigns during the siege.”

“We were brilliant on that day,” Robert said with a very large smile. “Robin, Much, and I climbed on the wall near the Gates of Acre, intending to kill the Saracens guarding the Gates. We found a good place on the wall and then released a hail of arrows, Robin with a deadly accuracy and I with a worse one, unfortunately, for I don’t possess Robin’s great talent.”

“I was there with Robin and Robert,” Much broke in; he stopped eating to participate in the discussion. “I was scared, but Robin and Robert were fearless.” He smiled. “I gave them many arrows as they were killing our enemies.” He smirked. “Soon the Saracens noticed us on the wall. Their archers fired at us, but we merely ducked and continued shooting at them.”

“Our shooting caused the commotion to escalate in the city,” Robin continued quietly, his voice all the more menacing because of its hush. “After we had killed everyone near the Gates of Acre, we climbed down the wall and opened the entrance to the city.” He smiled. “Legrand de Walcott and Roger of Stoke, our dear friends, as well as Roger de Tosny were right near the Gates. They led the men from the private guard and entered Acre through the Gates after we had opened them.”

“And then my friend William Loughborough led my men from the second guard to the city,” Robert added, smiling at his friends.

They didn’t know yet that William Loughborough and Legrand de Walcott were dead.

Little John looked impressed. “You opened the Gates of Acre?”

“Yes,” Robin confirmed with a small smile.

Robert’s face changed into seriousness. “And then the bloody battle of Acre unfolded.”

A smile on Robin’s face perished. The imprint of affliction etched into his soul was reflected on his features, and his eyes were distant, as if he were consumed into the great nothing. “It was too bloody,” he murmured.

Little John wanted to say something else, but the flatness in the eyes of his friends warned him to utter no word about the battle. He already knew that look in Robin’s eyes and didn’t need a warning.

Robert nibbled an apple. “When we captured Acre, everything changed,” he continued. “Soldiers were going mad with joy and happiness after a long time of being involved in the fierce battles and bloodshed and starvation. There were drunkenness, sexual orgies, and dissipation in Acre. At that time, everyone forgot that they were soldiers of Almighty God and of our holy faith.”

A bewildered John asked, “Why didn’t the king stop that?”

“Because it would be unwise from his side,” Robin answered, offering no other explanations.

“Why?” John persisted.

“King Richard knew that stopping his men could result in revolt against him. Our king is a strong leader, who is always stern and quick to punish his men for disobedience and insubordination, but he understood soldiers,” Robert explained the motives of Richard’s actions. “Many years ago, our king himself indulged in such activities, and he knew that he couldn’t expect his men to be loyal to him if he offered no rewards and no indulgence. Therefore, he allowed them to have a moment of relaxation.”

“And did you… participate in dissipation?” John asked.

Carter smiled knowingly. “Oh, Robin and Robert…”

Robin smiled. “Well, lads, Carter knows as Thomas shared our war stories with him.”

"After the capture of Acre, my men and I went to a brothel and hired all whores there," Robert informed with a small smile. "Robin's men and Robin joined us."

“What was the brothel’s name where I was very… drunk, hired three whores, and then danced on the table?” Robin asked, rubbing his cheek.

“It was called the Holy Paradise,” Carter said with a large grin on his face.

“Unholy hell,” Much muttered as he finished the bowl of fish soup.

Robert gave a sarcastic laugh. “So holy!”

“Very holy!” Robin laughed. “Carter, it seems that Thomas wrote to you everything in details!”

“Yes, he did,” Carter confirmed. “Robin, don’t worry. My brother did worse things than you.”

John stared at Robin, blinking. In shock, he even kicked his legs back and forth against a nearby chair. “Robin, you don’t mean anything of the kind. I cannot believe that you… did such… things!”

“It is true,” Much breathed.

“Then you will surely not believe me that I was happy on that night,” Robin said with a smug grin. “Acre was captured, and I didn’t need to fight at least for a while.” He giggled. “I had a purse of coins, and I hired three girls during one night. I didn’t care that I acted immorally and indecently.” He sipped more wine. “I slept with one of them after I had flung off my clothes and slid under the sheets. Then I drank more wine with another girl, and we... also enjoyed our time together.” He sipped more wine. “Then I went downstairs and joined my men; we continued drinking and celebrating.”

Robert smiled with a Cheshire-cat smile. “And then Robin came to me and asked to help him choose the third lover.” He laughed outright. “I did what he requested.”

“Oh, shame on you, Robin and Robert!” Little John looked scandalized and blushed.

“And then I went upstairs and had... a wonderful time with the girl,” Robin finished his confession. He had the grace to blush. “I even didn’t strip her off our clothes – I only took off what was necessary.”

“Robin, Robin…” John shook his head disapprovingly.

Robin nodded. “John, you just didn’t fight in the Holy Land for five years. You don’t know how many horrors we survived through during the siege of Acre.” He sighed. “Normal life and contentment were distant, but we all wanted that so much.” He sipped some wine. “Affairs with women were necessary to feel alive in a sea of blood and death.”

Carter nodded in understanding. “Robin is right, John.”

John gave a nod. “I understand.”

“On the same night, I had an orgy with several girls,” Robert confessed, laughing outright. “My friend, Lord William Loughborough, hired four girls, and we spent several hours with them.”

Little John sucked in his breath; he was shocked with the confessions.

The furious blush was burning Much’s face. “Robin offered me to… hire someone, but I refused.” He looked at Robin with what seemed like pride. “Unlike Robin, I can live without girls for a long time.”

Robin grinned. “It is just me, right?”

Much angled his chin. “You, you, Robin.”

“I have never been as chaste as you, Much.” Robin winked at the former manservant. “But I also know some secrets which you, Much, entrusted me to keep from the world.”

Much sniffed. “Yeah, please don’t tell me that you will betray me to make a fool of me.”

Robin placed his hand on Much’s shoulder. “My friend, your secrets are safe with me.”

Much smiled. “Thank you.”

“Much, don’t be so secretive. Tell us how many girls you seduced in the Holy Land,” Carter teased.

“Robin and I have our own deals you don’t need to be aware of,” Much grumbled.

Robin nodded. “Indeed.”

“Much doesn't strike anyone as a man who thinks that the sun comes up specifically to wake him up,” Robert said with a wry grin. “It is about Robin and me.”

A corner of Little John’s mouth curled up. “No doubt.”

“Robin was wanton and obnoxious on that shameful night in the Holy Paradise,” Much intervened, licking his lips. “In the end, Robin was so drunk that he danced on the table, together with Henry de Champagne, Robert de Beaumont, Roger of Stoke, and Roger de Lacy.” His cheeks went crimson. “They danced one of the Aquitanian dances they learned at the royal court in Poitiers. I would say they tried to dance, but they could barely stand on their feet.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Legrand, Edmund, Thomas, Morgan, I, and several Crusaders had to carry all of them to the Citadel of Acre.”

Robin laughed as he caught Much’s reprimanding gaze. “Oh, Much, I know you remember this night very well.”

“What did Robin do?” John inquired.

“Legrand and I carried Robin,” Much said simply. “He fought with us, and that was painful.”

A wickedly grinning Robin informed, “I struggled rather fiercely. Legrand and Much had many bruises.”

“Robin didn’t wish to leave that vulgar place. He smashed his fists into Legrand’s face and nearly broke his nose. He also slammed his fist into my jaw, and I almost lost my teeth. He struggled so violently that Legrand knocked him out,” Much twittered.

“The next morning, King Richard invited everyone for a private audience,” Carter continued with a smile.

Robin sniggered, pointing a finger at Carter. “He knows everything.”

Carter smiled. “Everyone knows, but I learned that from Thomas.”

“Nobody came, except for Roger of Stoke,” Robert enlightened, his expression wistful at the thought of their friend. “Later King Richard reprimanded us a great deal. His eyes were shooting daggers, and he lectured us for two hours when we finally came to his tent in a day or so.”

“Please, enough.” Little John leaned forward, setting his cup on the table before him.

Robert clapped Robin’s shoulder. “But our little bird is not fond of flying between whores’ sheets in exotic brothels of Acre.” He laughed. “Robin’s drunken daze continued only for several days, in contrast to me, as it took me more than two weeks to get myself out of debauching activities.”

Robin smiled indulgently. “My dear Robert, you are infamous for your debauchery.”

Robert swallowed hard. His eyes flew to Robin at that point and sickness fell to the pit of his stomach. “But these debauching activities didn’t make me happy.” His voice was hollow.

Robin put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Robert, don’t think of her. Just don’t.”

“I will try,” Robert said, forcing a smile.

Carter and Little John and Much stared at Robert, guessing what happened in Robert’s private life. But neither of them dared ask anything, understanding that Robin and Robert had their own secrets.

§§§

"Times passes so quickly," Robin mused philosophically, sipping wine from a silver goblet. "So many years has passed since I left my home for the Holy Land." He picked absently at his food. "I was a young boy, and my head was full of dreams to capture Jerusalem. _I wanted glory, recognition, and people's love._ I also wanted to prove to everyone that I deserved my title and wealth which I inherited from my father." He made a small sip of wine. " _But now I know how naïve I was_."

Robert de Beaumont nodded. “I know what you mean. It was also my case.” He brought a goblet of wine to his lips. “I thought it would take us no more than a year to crush the heathens.” He placed a goblet on the table. “And after so many years in this desert with scorpions and flies, we haven’t taken the holy city yet.” He emptied the goblet. “I am happy that I am still alive.”

“Robert, did you stay in the Holy Land while I was in England?” Robin asked.

“No. I was stabbed in my right side in one of the Saracen raids near Ascalon, and the king sent me home,” Robert answered. There was a flicker of strange emotions in his eyes as he looked at Robin, and he hurriedly gazed away. “I went to Normandy, to Caen, but I spent only four months there, recuperating from my wound. Then King Richard recalled me back to Acre.”

“I am sorry, Robert,” Robin said. “Are you alright now?”

Much looked concerned. “I hope there are no… lingering effects.”

“My wound healed completely,” Robert assured them.

“Good.” Robin was relieved.

Carter looked concentrated. “I arrived in the Holy Land because I wanted to take an example from my brother. I spent years envying Thomas that he was a Crusader, a Knight Templar, and served King Richard in the private guard,” he said, running his hand through his blonde hair. “I wanted to be like Thomas.” He paused, staring at Robin. “And like you, Robin.”

Robin was amazed. “Like me?”

“Yes.” Carter sipped water from his goblet, thinking he had already had enough wine. “Thomas often wrote me about your heroic deeds, your clever war strategies, and your unique skills with a bow and a sword.” He smiled. “I was in awe from all incredible stories about you.”

“Oh, you are flattering me.” Robin waved his hand.

“Then I made a grievous mistake… when I wanted to kill you…” Carter relapsed into silence.

“Carter, it is forgotten,” Robin soothed, smiling at him.

“Thank you.” Carter flashed a smile of gratitude. “When I arrived in the Holy Land and joined the private guard, I realized that I was an utter fool.” His voice was edged with sadness. “I became the king’s favorite and I admire Richard, but I understood that this war… is pointless. Now I am fighting here for peace and out of my loyalty to our liege, not for the holy cause.”

“Do many others think… that the Crusade turned out to be not so glorious?” Little John asked quietly.

Robin took a platter of grapes; he always loved fruits in the Holy Land. “I don’t know.” He chose to be accurate in his speech. “But we are all serving the king. We are his vassals who pledged our loyalty to him. He decides what to do – to fight or to make peace.”

“The king is the king,” Much said meaningfully as he put a large piece of fish into his mouth.

“Does the king know your true views?” John drank water from his flask; silver goblets were not what he liked after so many years as a dead man in the forest.

Robert finished eating poultry soup. He took an empty platter and put two small pieces of gooses and one piece of fish there. “Richard knows what we think about the Crusade. Robin and I told him many times to make peace and go home.”

“And you still have your heads attached to your bodies?” John’s eyes went wide.

“John, haven’t you already understood that the king loves them?” Much looked as though he had been insulted by someone doubting his own status rather than Robin’s.

“I only asked,” John said quietly.

“It is fine, John,” Robert allayed his concerns. “The king listens to us because he is interested in our opinions, of course, if we don’t cross the line too much. But he is not a man who can be easily persuaded to do something and who can be manipulated into feeling what you want him to feel.”

Robin inclined his head in confirmation. “Oh, it is definitely true. Our king can listen and ask for advice, but the final decision is always his and only his.”

“And if someone undermines the king’s authority, consequences can be very bad,” Robert summed up, his eyes drifting to Robin and his lips quirking. “Robin, when I was in Normandy, my sister Amicia told me about your adventures in Sherwood; I was fascinated and envious.”

“So it was Amicia who told you that I was outlawed?” Robin asked.

“Yes,” Robert confirmed. “And Amicia was worried about you, my little bird. She is a sensible and compassionate woman.” He smiled. “I would have come to you, to Sherwood, if my injury didn’t trouble me so much and if the king didn’t summon me back to the Holy Land so soon.”

Robin slowly drank red wine, his eyes twinkling. He was staring at Robert with an air of conceited satisfaction. “Amicia is always in my heart, like her dear brother is in mine and I am in their hearts.”

Much slanted his former master a reproving glance. “Robin, I hope you are not going to… be close again. You have already stopped chasing after skirts, and I have finally relaxed. Please don’t do that again to me!”

“Now, now, Much, tell me one thing,” Robin teased. “Are you jealous because girls like me?”

“Jealous? Why should I be? I am not jealous!” Much looked troubled.

“We will find your beautiful Eve, Much. If Robin rejects to help you, I will do that,” Robert promised.

Much looked nonplussed, his eyes going wider. “How do you know about Eve?”

“Much, you talk and snort when you sleep. We all know that her name is Eve,” Carter supplied, being in the mood now to tease Much.

Robin chuckled. “Please, we can hardly wait to see a happy couple! Long live Much and Eve!”

The former manservant opened his mouth so widely that it was like a gaping hole. “Ah!” He closed his mouth. “I don’t snort. I don’t talk in sleep. I don’t eat much. I don’t annoy anyone. I am just Much.”

“Yes, you are my Much.” Robin smiled cordially. “Don’t be embarrassed. We will find Eve.”

“I am yours, my Robin, until death do us part,” Much murmured, a tiny smile curving his mouth.

There was a burst of Robin’s laughter – the sort of laughter that indicates some amusement. Then he smiled back. “Until death do us part.”

Robin smiled wickedly. “So, Robert, dear Amicia didn’t forget me, did she?”

“Never.” Robert sipped wine.

“Does Lady Amicia mean something to you, Robin?” Carter asked, intrigued.

“A special friend,” Robin said briefly as he raised a goblet of wine to his lips.

“I know where it is going.” John was again shaking his head.

“My elder sister was the sweet lover who taught our little bird how to embrace joys of passion,” Robert declared with an impudent laugh. “His devastating charm is, I fear, his besetting sin. Even my sister, who was constantly in our company, couldn’t resist when this bird lavished her with his cheeky smiles.”

“Robin and Lady Amicia… were under the sheets for the first time… when Robert went to… a house of ill repute …” Much stammered; his cheeks turned crimson.

Collective roars of laughter went through the group as they all looked over in Much's direction. Even John laughed not at Much’s comment, but at his manner of speaking.

“Euphemism, Much! But why are you using such a dull euphemism?” Robin flicked up a brow. “What about more vibrant euphemism, my friend?”

“Robin!” John said scathingly.

Carter and Robert threw their heads back and laughed.

Much also laughed. “I myself wonder why I am so humble.”

“Well, I am a real wonder.” Robin’s expression was smug, and he flashed a brilliant smile.

“What a smug and shameless man,” Carter retorted, smiling impishly.

Little John shook his head. “Oh, Robin, you are so full of yourself.”

“Always,” Robin retorted, smiling with the most charming smile that easily entranced everyone. “I am unforgettable like a lotus flower in full bloom.”

Robert flashed a twisted smile, winking at Robin. “I am as impressive as a beautiful flower valley.”

“Another rogue!” John rolled his eyes.

“Conceitedness is a part of their charm.” Carter giggled.

John made a face. “Their charm is natural, but very annoying and impudent!”

“But without our annoyance, you will be bored!” Robert cried out, his expression high and mighty.

A vainglorious Robin grinned sheepishly. “There is no fun without us.” He glanced triumphantly at de Beaumont who winked at his friend. “Mischief and trouble go where we go.”

“And where I go too,” Much supplemented, raising his chin high.

Everyone burst out laughing, their eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Very true,” John noted.

Heads nodded and the conversation slipped into other topics. They drank wine and told tales and played cards during the rest of the night.

The feast was over near the midnight, everyone left Robin’s tent. Robin’s squire Lionel was fussing over cleaning of the tent, taking the dirty platters and goblets away. Robin seated himself on his bed, watching the young man with hazy eyes, thinking about the regicide attempt on King Richard’s life, which was planned by Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of Knights Templar. The date of their meeting with Grand Master of the Hashashin was approaching, and Robin was very worried.

The flap of the tent moved, and an alarmed Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, appeared at the entrance. Their eyes met, and Robin nodded at his squire, signaling him to leave them alone. As Lionel left, Robert advanced forward and stood near Robin.

“I had an audience with King Richard,” Robert de Beaumont began.

Robin arched a brow. “At this late hour?”

“Yes.”

“What happened, Robert?”

“King Richard received a message from Amicia,” Robert answered. “We have some news.”

“What is going on in England? Are they planning a new regicide? What is Prince John doing?” Robin was so anxious that questions came out from his mouth automatically.

“Amicia doesn’t know anything about new plots,” Robert said in an allaying tone. “It is good that she learned about de Sablé’s treason and warned us about that.”

“She did a great job,” Robin agreed. “She and Sir William de Longchamp.”

Robert smiled sadly. “Oh, Amicia and de Longchamp have been handling Richard’s huge spy network for years. They both are two foxes and hunting dogs.”

“I cannot disagree. But what happened?”

“Well, Robin, we don’t know what is going on,” Robert said grimly. “Prince John raised taxes so high that the country would be squeezed out of all the remaining wealth soon if taxation policy is not changed. He dispossessed even some of those nobles who were loyal to him and couldn’t pay taxes.”

“Prince John raised taxes a long time ago. Everyone knows that taxes are higher than they were during the reign of King Henry and at the moment of King Richard’s accession to the throne.”

“Something is going on. He raised taxes to the unbelievable highs.”

“Maybe he wants to finance rebellion or war,” Robin speculated.

“Exactly, Robin.”

Robin unsheathed his scimitar and traced its curvature with his fingers. "Most likely, the prince raises taxes to fund new assassination attempts on the king's life."

Robert growled. “It grieves me to think so, but I think he plans something more serious.”

“An alternative plan of power usurpation,” Robin voiced what they both were afraid of.

“Yes.”

“It can be any trick of a power-hungry madman.” Robin sheathed his scimitar and put it on the table.

“Amicia will try to get more information,” Robert said with a sigh. “But I am worried about her.”

Robin grimaced. “Does she really need to continue sleeping with John?”

“Yes. She has to tolerate his lecherous ways in order to get information for Richard.”

Robin laughed outright. “I think you are as lecherous as Prince John, Robert.”

Robert let out a laugh. “Not as much as I used to be at home. Here, in the Holy Land, I don’t have Aquitanian damsels to warm my bed. I can either go to brothels or sleep with some widows of our fellow Crusaders. But I love a variety of women to choose from, which I don’t have here.”

Robin smirked. “Let’s hope we will get home soon.”

A long silence stretched between them for what had to have been a full minute, as Robert gazed at Robin, then turned his stare to the ground, and then looked back to his friend without uttering a sound.

“You also have some bad news, don’t you?” Robin frowned slightly, and his mouth looked tight.

“Yes, I do,” Robert said quietly, not looking at his friend.

Robin flinched as he felt raw pain in Robert’s voice. “What happened?”

Robert turned his gaze at Robin. “Legrand is dead.”

Robin felt his heart twist in his chest. “How did he die?”

“ _Sheriff Vaisey… killed… Legrand in Nottingham_ ,” Robert informed, his voice shaking. “After the royal proclamation of your official pardon was declared, there was a chaotic mess in the town, on the central square.” Unshed tears pooled in his throat, and he swallowed hard. “There was the fight between the king’s men, the sheriff’s guards, and the villagers. And Legrand was killed in that stupid battle.”

“And Roger de Lacy?” Robin’s voice was barely audible.

“Roger is alright.”

“Thanks to God that Roger is alive.”

“Thanks to God,” Robert echoed.

“The fight with the villagers?” Robin arched a brow; a pang of guilt swept over him.

“Yes. But the Crusaders saved the majority of them.”

Robin shut his eyes for an instant. “I abandoned the people. I chose the king over the people.” He clenched his teeth. “And it looks like Vaisey began to oppress the populace harsher than before.”

“Roger de Lacy will deal with everything. He will save as many people as he can.”

“I hope so.”

“Robin, I know that you feel guilty, but you did the right thing when you came to Acre. If King Richard is killed by the Black Knights, there will be nobody to make things right after our return to England.”

“Anyway, I deserted my people again.”

“I understand your frustration, but you mustn’t blame yourself.”

Robin hung his head. “I know that it is not my fault.” A deep sigh followed. “I had to come to Acre in order to stop all these regicides. If the king had been murdered, we would have lost the last chance to restore justice in England.” He sighed again. “And I would have never forgiven myself for turning down the king’s second request if something had happened to Richard.”

“The news from England is really bad.”

Tears stung Robin’s eyes. “Legrand, our dear friend, is dead.” Guilt etched his gloomy features, and he clenched his teeth. “And everything because of Vaisey and Gisborne.”

Robert gritted his teeth. “I want to kill Vaisey and Gisborne.”

"I would have killed both Vaisey and Gisborne if they were close to me now," Robin hissed. His jaw clenched tightly for a moment as he resisted the urge to scream in intense grief over Legrand's death.

“They deserve to die, both of them.”

“But it is not our decision,” Robin reminded.

“Unfortunately, my friend.”

Robin walked to the table and poured two goblets of wine. He handed one goblet to Robert.

“To Legrand de Walcott, our beloved friend and the strongest man we have ever had,” Robin said quietly. He lifted his goblet in a toast.

Robert also lifted his goblet. “To Legrand de Walcott!”

Robin made another sip of wine. “To the man whom I loved like a dear friend and almost like a brother,” he spelled out slowly. He allowed all his own pain to pour out of him. “And to the man who died at the hand of the demon that must pay for his crimes.”

“And to the man who died for King Richard and for England,” Robert said in a voice so deep with aching that anyone’s blood could have frozen in veins.

Robin’s eyes filled with tears. “The five of us were together since we had met in Poitou years ago. But we lost Roger and Legrand. We cannot lose another Roger and you.”

Robin of Locksley, Robert de Beaumont, Roger de Lacy, Roger of Stoke, and Legrand de Walcott had befriended each other during their knighthood training at Prince Richard’s court. They were King Richard’s loyal knights and close friends, as well as war comrades and famous Crusaders.

“Now there are only three of us,” Robert summed up.

Robin slammed his goblet on the table and approached Robert. He dragged his friend into a tight and affectionate embrace, and Robert’s arms encircled Robin’s back.

“I love you, Robert,” Robin whispered into his friend’s ear.

Robert drew back, staring into Robin’s eyes. “I love you too, my friend.”

“I cannot lose you, Robert.” Robin’s voice sounded absolutely heartbroken.

Robert wrapped his arm around Robin’s back. “Robin, I wish you good luck in Masyaf. Be careful there because you just cannot die – not you, Robin, not you.”

“I will do everything to save the king. I will destroy Robert de Sablé,” Robin vowed.

§§§

Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon, and Henry of Jerusalem, Count de Champagne, left Acre on the hot April day; they headed to Masyaf to meet with Grand Master of the Hashashin. In order not to attract attention to their party, they were accompanied only by ten guards, including Roger de Tosny, Carter, Little John, and Much. The army's center was left behind with the king, the massed standards, the king's guards, and other soldiers.

As Robert de Sablé and his men had already departed to Masyaf, they were ahead of Richard’s negotiating party almost for one day. Grand Master of the Knights Templar had left without giving the king a notice beforehand, and they suspected that Robert de Sablé had prepared a trap for Robin either on the way to Masyaf or somewhere in the assassins’ stronghold.

Their ride from Acre to Masyaf was extremely hard. Robin allowed the convoy to have only brief stops to get some rest, and they rode in silence without making any stops, except for short periods to dismount and then rearrange the cumbersome loads on their horses and feed the animals. De Champagne protested that they needed more time to rest, but Robin reminded him that de Sablé had already departed to Masyaf and, thus, they had to hurry. Besides, Richard had declared that Robin would be the undisputed leader of the expedition, although de Champagne intended to play an active role in the negotiations. De Champagne had been seethed with anger, but he had been obliged to accept the king’s decision and obeyed.

The morning after morning broke bright and warm with the blazing sun almost at its full height. By the early hours of the third day, everyone was tired of the constant ride and sweating in the baking sun. As the sun climbed in the sky and the unbearable heat reigned supreme over the brisk chill of the night, it was nearly impossible to breathe. They looked like corpses in their saddles rigid in awkward positions.

Like everyone, Robin was unwell, tired beyond measure and unnerved by the time advantage de Sablé had over them. He was extremely thirsty, like he had never been in the Holy Land, but they didn’t have much water to drink and rest; it was also dangerous to drink much in the desert.

The Masyaf Castle emerged on the horizon before the eyes of the weary Crusaders, in the dazzling brightness of the sun that broke through the clouds and sent them scudding back towards the mountains, giving way to a wide, sweeping canvas of the azure sky. The castle was a large fortified citadel with a couple of high towers, the main keep, and a large training yard for assassins to hone their craft. The castle stood on a relatively high platform above the surrounding plain, on the crossroads of the trade routes to Arabic cities further inland. Masyaf became the main headquarters of the Hashashin after the destruction of their former and first headquarters – Alamut.

“We are almost there,” Robin announced, relieved that their tiresome journey was almost over.

“It looks terrifying,” Little John noticed, gazing into the distance, at the silhouettes of the castle’s towers. “Is it the only place where these assassins live?”

Robin shook his head. “No. They have other strongholds in Antioch, also located in mountainous and remote areas. Masyaf is the main residence of the Hashashin.”

John shuddered. “This I don’t like. I mean this place.”

“Why?” Carter raised an eyebrow. “The landscape is gorgeous.”

John stared at Robin for a moment; he sighed and went on. “These assassins are dangerous.”

Carter laughed. “John, don’t tell me that you are afraid of the Hashashin.”

“I just don’t like what I have heard about them,” John explained.

“Ah, this is understandable,” Much agreed, his eyes taking in the grimly looking castle. “Everyone in the Holy Land fears the Hashashin. I have heard many horrifying stories about them. These assassins transformed an act of murder into an art of killing. You never know how the Hashashin will kill their target and when they will appear. Typically, these assassins work in a disguise; they usually use a long or a short curved sword; they reject poison, bows, and other weapons.”

“Even Saladin fears the Hashashin,” de Tosny interjected.

John’s breathing was ragged with shock. “This is disgusting.”

“John, you are exaggerating.” Robin felt the urge to scold Much for being so talkative. “Actually, the assassins are meticulous in killing their targets, seeking to do that without any casualties and taking lives of innocents. But it is true that the Hashashin cultivated their terrifying reputation by slaying their victims in public, often in mosques and in daytime. It is also true that they are very unpredictable.”

“It is rumored the assassins of Conrad de Montferrat were hired by King Richard,” John remarked. “Is that true, Robin?”

Robin briefly exchanged nervous glances with Carter; Robin and Carter felt uncomfortable as they disliked such questions about their liege.

“I don’t think so,” Robin said after a small pause.

As he noticed Robin’s slight nod, Carter spoke. “Our king has many more important matters to do than to kill simple pawns in large political games. He is fighting with Saladin, not de Montferrat.”

“I see,” Little John said.

“We will be fine, John,” Robin reassured, smiling; his smile covered his own fear. “I am used to such dangers. And I am sure you believe me that I know what I am doing.”

John gave a hesitant nod. “I do trust you, Robin.”

Robin of Locksley urged his horse to gallop; the Crusaders followed Robin. The picture of serene nature and beauty slowly changed into the dreadful sight: the courtyard before the Masyaf Castle was overcrowded with the heavily armed men – the Hashashin assassins – as they watched the Crusaders. The assassins were dressed in white robes and had numerous sharp daggers, long Saracen curved swords and short swords, which were sheathed and hung on their waists.

All at once, the crowd of assassins parted, permitting Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, and his party to walk forward. Robert de Sablé was in the lead, his expression arrogant and happy in anticipation of his victory over King Richard and Robin of Locksley. The appearance of the traitors drew a gasp of horror and amazement from Robin’s companions, and their expressions were befuddled. Robin, Henry de Champagne, and Carter ordered to continue riding towards the castle; it was not the time for fear, for they had an important mission to do for King Richard, England, all the Christians, and ultimately for peace in the Holy Land.

“Robin, what is going on? Why is Robert de Sablé behaving so strangely?” Much asked.

“Robin, I don’t understand. What is happening here?” Little John questioned worriedly.

Looking at the smiling Robert de Sablé, Robin sucked in his breath. His heart was already shrouded in the darkness, and a wave of anger swept through him, touching every part of him. “I swear that we will win today,” he said aloud enough for his comrades to hear him. He said that not only to inspire his friends and other companions, but also because he was evoked by a deep and formless, unsuspected rage that had left him trembling with tension by the time he stopped speaking. He loathed and despised de Sablé, like he despised all traitors to England and King Richard.

John stared at Robin in surprise. “Robin, did you know that Grand Master de Sablé would come here before us? What is this man planning?”

“Robert de Sablé and his party are traitors. We are sworn to secrecy regarding some matters,” de Champagne said abruptly, his tone dismissing all further discussions.

Robin was approaching the Masyaf Castle at a maddening speed. On his white stallion, in his white Crusader tunic with a red cross emblazoned on his chest, he looked like a knight in a shining armor in the rays of the sun, a bright and ferocious halo in the sky.

The crowd parted, and the relatively young man came forward; then he stopped, looking at the Crusaders, his eyes focusing on Robin and Henry. The assassins bowed to the man, Robert de Sablé and the Knights Templar sank to their knees. Robin inspected the Saracen, who was dressed like a typical assassin, although he also wore a red turban on his head. Robin surmised that the man was Grand Master of the Hashashin, the famous Altaïr. He also noticed a group of old men with long beards and white turbans on their heads; each of them looked like an infidel clergymen.

Robin urged his horse to continue galloping alongside with Henry de Champagne’s horse, his gaze sharp and watchful of an enemy who would try to shoot them or kill them in any other way before they stopped. Carter and Much rode next to him; Little John and others were slightly behind. Robin yelled out orders to continue riding and avoid charging into the battle at any cost until they spoke to Grand Master of the Hashashin. They were moving towards the Master Assassin.

Robin tightened the reigns and stopped his horse. His gaze cold and hard, he quickly surveyed the groups of the treacherous Knights Templar; then he spoke in an astoundingly casual tone. “We have come in peace, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad,” he addressed Grand Master of the Hashashin.

“Sir Robin of Locksley and Monsieur Henry de Champagne,” Altaïr said in English, bowing slightly to Robin and Henry. His accent was barely noticeable; he stared at Robin in feigned amazement, thinking how young the legendary Captain Locksley was. “You wish to make peace with the Order of the Hashashin and Saladin, don’t you?” he asked evenly.

Robin inclined his head in confirmation. He wasn’t astonished that the assassin knew his name. “Yes, King Richard wishes peace.”

“King Richard wants to have an alliance with your brotherhood,” Henry de Champagne said mightily.

Altaïr’s face was expressionless, his eyes darting between Robin and Henry. "Your king is a wise man if he sent you two of all the men who serve him to negotiate an alliance,” he said formally. “Yet, there are people who have already offered us the same. They say that King Richard won’t be the King of England for long; they even presented evidence that the Lionheart’s own subjects want him dead.”

Carter’s eyes blazed with anger. “Traitor! Bloody traitor,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“I always wonder why so many people turn out to be spies, traitors, and informers. The world is filled with too many ghoulish traitors,” Roger de Tosny mused sadly.

“Damn all these traitors,” someone of the Crusaders cursed.

“Silence! Everyone!” de Champagne commanded, his eyes fixing on Robert de Sablé. “Grand Master de Sablé, what did you offer to the Hashashin?”

Robert de Sablé swept his eyes over the Crusaders, a self-complacent smile on his face. “We have come here to negotiate an alliance with the Order of the Hashashin,” he promulgated in a high voice, his eyes flying from Altaïr, to Henry and then to Robin. “Many nobles of the Angevin Empire consider Richard the Lionheart the fake King of England because King Henry II of England wanted Prince John to inherit the throne. They are also displeased with the absent and weak king who is unable to rule the vast lands of the Angevin Empire.”

“Grand Master de Sablé, are there any other reasons for your betrayal of King Richard?” Robin asked rhetorically, his face impassive, his eyes cold.

“The Angevin Empire needs a wise and capable king, not Richard Plantagenet, the pitiful personification of a monarch,” Robert de Sablé said spitefully. “Richard Plantagenet usurped the throne because his own father never wanted him to be a king.” He feigned an expression of disgust. “Richard is a cruel murderer of innocents – the Saracens and even his own countrymen.” He crossed himself. “I still remember the day when this so-called king murdered three thousand prisoners in Acre, God bless their poor souls.”

Robin laughed. “Monsieur de Sablé, if my memory serves me well, the joint forces of King Richard and King Philippe II of France defeated King Henry's army at Ballans. And then King Henry, with Prince John’s consent, named Richard, his eldest surviving son, his heir apparent.”

“That means nothing to us. Richard cornered King Henry to recognize him as his father’s heir. He stole the throne from Prince John,” Robert de Sablé said adamantly.

Smiling infuriatingly and shaking his head, Robin extended a cautious finger and stroked one of the sleeves of his chainmail. “But Richard Plantagenet is the rightful King of England because he was named an heir by his own father.” He shifted his gaze from Sablé to Altaïr. “No one can question the validity of King Henry’s last wish and his will to make Richard his heir.”

Altaïr nodded. “As far as I know, no one can.”

De Champagne wanted to say something to defend King Richard, but Robin tugged at his sleeve and stopped him. Richard wasn’t Henry’s liege, although he was one of his grand favorites and chief generals on the Crusade. It was Robin’s deal as Richard’s vassal.

“Then you, my esteemed Grand Master of the Hashashin, have nothing to discuss with this traitor of our king,” Robin told Altaïr, glaring straight at Robert.

“Don’t forget what I offered you, Altaïr,” de Sablé reminded.

Altaïr’s face remained emotionless. “I don’t question the Lionheart’s right for the throne. But there are certain things I question and think of.” There was an assurance in the set of his lips and in a cadence of his speech, and that unnerved everyone.

Robin permitted a slight furrow appear on his forehead. “And what do you wonder about, Master Assassin?”

“I am not sure that Melek-Ric really wants to make peace with Saladin, Captain Locksley,” Altaïr responded with directness, in a voice that alluded to him having an upper hand in the situation. “I want your king out of our land. I want him to stop killing the Saracens and leave. This land needs peace, and if your king is against peace, I have a lot to think of.”

Robert chuckled, pleased with Altaïr’s words. “Master Assassin, you are a clever man.”

Robin barely repressed a fierce growl. “So, Altaïr, you doubt that King Richard wants peace and you prefer to sacrifice his sacred life to end the war in the Holy Land? And you are ready to be hired by this foul traitor to kill the rightful King of England?” he demanded.

“I have to think about many things,” Altaïr supplied.

Robin glared at the assassin frostily; he sighed, rubbing his eyebrow. “So you consider killing the King of England?” His expression evolved into fury, but in a moment changed into blankness. “Then you are a conspirator against my king like Robert de Sablé.”

That brought a lethal grin to the de Sablé’s face. “And what can we expect to hear from you, Lord Huntingdon? You, together with your soi-disant king, disgrace yourself and your holy vows by sleeping together.” He screwed up his face. “You have done abominable things with Richard.”

Robin’s blue eyes flashed in anger and then darkened in rage. “This is preposterous! I have never been my king’s lover, and Grand Master knows that very well. He deliberately tries to blacken our liege,” he said so loud that all the assassins stared at him. “This traitor is lying. King Richard… erm… doesn’t prefer men, I am sorry for making this indecent and personal comment, and I know that for sure.”

“Dirty traitor,” de Champagne huffed. “King Richard is not a sodomite!”

“Traitor! Traitor!” the angry Crusaders chorused.

"Locksley, aren’t you Richard’s lover?" Robert de Sablé continued acidly, laughing tauntingly; his men also laughed at Robin. “Didn’t the lion please you in his large bed during cold nights in the desert, like he always had done to King Philippe of France before Philippe left Acre?”

Robin laughed outright, though his blood was boiling in rage. “Grand Master de Sablé, your speech is dishonorable and your accusations are false. But you will pay for every insult towards King Richard and my humble person.”

De Champagne cleared his throat. “I am King Philippe’s vassal, and I solemnly swear that King Richard and King Philippe never committed the said mortal sin; they only once shared a bed as a symbol of unity between their countries, but nothing more,” he proclaimed, his face contorted in anger mingled with shock. “I agree with Robin. This traitor must be arrested and executed for high treason.”

Robert de Sablé laughed; it was a harsh laugh, like a dog’s barking. “I have no reason to be ashamed of myself, for I have told the truth. Robin of Locksley and Henry de Champagne are both King Richard’s lovers, not only his favorites.” He pointed a finger at Robin. “Sodomy is a sin in the eyes of God, and Richard is a Christian king. Even the Saracens put a man to death for an act of sleeping with a male, and the fake king, the usurper of John Plantagenet’s crown, should be put to death for his despicable sins.”

A wrathful Robin narrowed at de Sablé and growled, “Monsieur de Sablé, you are the lowest vermin on earth. You betrayed King Richard, your lord and your sovereign. You came here, to the Hashashin, to hire them for a new regicide attempt on the king’s life. You insulted our king and me without any reason. You don’t deserve to live.”

“He deserves to be hanged, drawn, and quartered,” Henry said.

“Death to this traitor!” Carter boomed from the back.

“This man deserves to die a slow, painful, cruel death!” Much roared; his face was covered with numerous reddish spots, his blood boiling in anger. “Robin is King Richard’s friend and loyal subject! How does this man dare insult our king and Robin? He has no right to do that!”

“Traitor,” Little John spat.

“Death to Robert de Sablé!” the Crusaders roared in a chorus.

Robert de Sablé looked at Robin straight in the eye, giving him a glare of hatred. Robin’s eyes swept over the traitor with a disdain equal to that of his enemy, but his face was blank, devoid of his frenzied emotions; only his blue eyes reflected his true attitude towards the older man.

Grand Master of the Knights Templar turned his gaze to Grand Master of the Hashashin. “Altaïr, remember that Prince John will never send his people to the Holy Land when he becomes King of England,” he reminded, his brown eyes dancing with demonic glee. “You have to kill Richard for the sake of peace in these lands. Prince John will never kill the Saracens like Richard did: he and his men will never burn, rape, hang, and destroy everything on their way, slaughtering your folk wholesale, without regard to humanity. Richard deserves to be killed like a dog.”

Robin’s blood boiled. “You, Robert de Sablé, will answer personally to me for every insult and offense towards the king, who is not only my sovereign but also my friend.”

Altaïr was silent as he watched the verbal duel between the Crusaders and the traitors. He had already made up his mind a long time ago, but he wanted to see what Robin and the others would say. “This is a strange situation we find ourselves in.”

Robin’s was so intense and pervasive that his face paled in rage. “Master Assassin, let us arrest these traitors. Then we will return to our negotiations about an alliance.”

There was an ambiguous look on Altaïr’s face, as if he were hesitating. “I have applied my heart to grasp wisdom and decide what to do with the two parties who want an alliance with the Hashashin. I see that I must leave that to the one wiser than all of us are – to God. God will favor the one whose cause is righteous and honorable.” His voice was a great, firm bass.

A long silence followed. A feeling of profound anger filled Robin’s heart. “Then so be it,” Robin spelled out at last, meaning to kill the traitor by himself.

Robert de Sablé gave a pointed look to the assassin, his eyebrows rising in astonishment. Then he slowly raised one hand high, fingers spread, and showed at Robin. “Then we will fight. I will kill Captain Locksley,” he affirmed in a menacing voice. “Prepare to die, Locksley!”

“Ah, well, dream that you will kill me, Monsieur de Sablé.” Robin laughed wickedly.

“I will kill you, damned boy!” de Sablé threatened.

Robin laughed again. “Perhaps someday, but not today.”

"Robin!" Much exploded in a shocked voice. "It is a terrible idea! Don’t fight with him!”

“Robin, are you sure of what you are about to do?” Carter asked with concern.

“Oh? You fear I will die?” Robin asked with a short laugh. “Believe me that I won’t lose.”

“Good luck, Sir Robin,” de Champagne wished sincerely. “Even in the midst of my grave concerns with the outcome of the fight, for de Sablé is one of the best swordsmen in Christendom, I agree with you that a loyal captain and a great man should always defend his king and his friend.”

Robin looked at Henry in mild bewilderment. “Thank you, Monsieur Henry. I will be fine.”

“Be careful, Robin,” de Tosny added; he was worried about his Captain’s safety.

“I will win.” Robin unsheathed his curved Saracen scimitar, giving a reassuring smile to his friends.

§§§

Altaïr gave a signal to the assassins, and they removed themselves from the vast space in front of them, forming a circle around Robert and Robin. The pall of twilight was descending, and the setting sun turned the blue sky to purple and yellow. The Crusaders and the treacherous Knights Templar stood aside, everyone with sparks of anxiety in their eyes, the Knights Templar being anxious about their Grand Master and the Crusaders about Robin.

“Grand Master de Sablé,” Robin spat, half laughed in his enemy’s face, “your regicide attempt has been thwarted. You failed. I assure you that you won’t live to see another sunrise.”

“I will kill you! Everyone failed, but I will deal with such a green boy as you!” Robert shouted.

“You won’t kill me.” Robin lifted his scimitar and glanced at his rival. “Any specific rules, sire?”

Robert smiled. “Nothing in particular.”

Robin grinned insolently. “No honor and no chivalry, Monsieur de Sablé?”

“Oh, I expect a glamorous and chivalrous fight from you, Lord Huntingdon,” de Sablé fired back.

Robin laughed lightly, a rich sound before nodding his agreement. “Agreed.”

“Aye, I saw you kill, Locksley. You learned how to kill from Richard and Sheridan, it seems.”

"That’s quite a terrific coincidence, don’t you think so?" With a neutral expression, Robin pulled his lips into a semblance of a smile.

Robin stood several inches lower and pounds lighter than Robert, but he knew how to use his lighter complexion to his advantage. Robin attacked Robert with a furious power, as if it were important to practice at full strength from the start. Laughing wickedly, Robert parried a blow and riposted towards his opponent’s flank; then he began aiming blows at Robin's stomach and chest.

“Locksley, victory will be mine,” de Sablé pledged, and lunged forward.

Robin parried, grinning. “Never fry a fish till it is caught.”

Robin began to introduce his usual tricking blows and parries, which he often used to mislead his opponents. The rhythm of the fierce battle humming through him, Robin launched more and more unsystematic and sophisticated sword assaults, using overhead, diagonal, circular, and parallel combinations of blows. His scimitar flickered in the hot air like a flash of glinting silver.

Robin's lips quirked up in a crooked smile as he set his scimitar and brought his blade to the side to counter a blow Robert swung at him. He slashed in quick succession, driving Robert back before spinning and bringing his blade in an angled strike. Robert cried out in surprise, and his blade met Robin’s. Robin parried and quickly lunged forward, then crushed an overhead blow at his rival. Robert turned on the offensive and blocked the blow that Robin threw at him.

“Unpredictable,” Robert commented as he stepped back and lunged again.

“As always,” Robin shot back, parrying a blow.

Robert growled as Robin attacked again, and the sandy-haired Crusader lifted his scimitar to block an overhead blow. Robert was taller and stronger, his arms had a little more reach, but Robin used his own lower height to his advantage by aiming at his rival’s middle and improvising with special blows. As they traded blows and moved back and forth, Robert de Sablé failed to disarm Robin. Robert’s face evolved from open insult to then to black fury. Robert abruptly launched strike after strike, but each of them was skillfully blocked or deflected by his opponent.

Robin made a diagonal blow and parried another similar blow, then made one circular blow to his opponent’s midsection. Robert blocked and swung his sword from top downward, to the waist level, making Robin dodge and step backwards to parry a blow; then Robert’s sword flew from the chest level upwards, transforming into an overhead blow.

With a smirk on his lips, Robin cross-blocked a blow and took two small steps back. Then Robin spun around, a tip of his scimitar looking downward, and lunged forward to meet de Sablé’s sword; he parried and again stepped back. Suddenly, Robin started another full spin, and, having completed it, he crushed an overhead blow at Robert just as he quitted his spin, face-to-face with his rival, crossing their swords. Taking advantage of the look of surprise on Grand Master's face, Robin extended his scimitar forward in an extravagant crisscross combination and then sideward, knocking the sword out of Robert’s hand so swiftly that de Sablé stumbled backwards.

Grand Master of the Knights Templar didn’t have any time even to lift his sword in a hasty parry, and then realized that he was disarmed. Straightening his spine, Robert cursed, his eyes drifting between his sword on the sand and Robin’s smug face. “Damn you, Locksley!” he shouted.

Robin lifted Robert’s sword from the sand and gave it to his rival. “Take it and die as a man.”

“Again chivalry! What do you want?” de Sablé growled, trying to reach for his sword.

“To make you pay for your treason,” Robin stated.

Giving an inhuman cry of rage, Robert de Sablé slashed at Robin of Locksley, but Robin calmly brought up his sword in a parry. The two men were again nose to nose, their blades locked between them and grating together as they traded fierce blows, for they were overwhelmed with murderous hatred.

“What a great spectacle! I love Robin’s beautiful blows,” Carter commented with a large smile on his face.

Little John was impressed. “I have never seen something like this.”

“Not too bad,” Roger de Tosny gave a modest praise.

“Robin is spinning so quickly. We see only a flash of his scimitar as he spins,” John observed. “It is beyond possible description. It is so… so…”

“Beautiful and unforgettable,” Much finished for John, a large smile of adoration on his face; he always was proud when Robin was praised. “John, I told you that Robin didn’t demonstrate all his awesome skills with a sword in Nottingham.”

“Damn, Robin’s spinning is for show-off, but I love this,” de Tosny, skeptical by nature, praised.

“Spinning often comes as an element of Robin’s tricking blows,” Carter objected.

“Why does Robin do them?” John questioned, his eyes wide in amazement.

“Wrong. This is all about Robin’s sword fighting style. His style is adroit, inimitable, and unsystematic for onlookers, although he has his own system and strategy, which very few people know and understand,” Carter explained. “Robin’s lovely blows often save his life, so I wouldn’t call them show-off. Robin needs this fighting style to compensate for… some things.”

“Oh.” John was stunned. “His slenderness? Robin is not heavy at all.”

“Carter is right. Robin is not heavy, but it doesn’t make him a bad fighter,” Much said, his eyes wide in surprise that someone had finally said aloud Robin’s secret.

“Robin is an excellent fighter, one of the best among the Crusaders,” Carter assessed in an unbiased way, grinning at them. “My sword fighting style also has an element of the show-off in many ways. I also have to compensate for my relatively small size and slimness.”

Much laughed. “As compared to our king, Robin and Carter are small.”

“As compared to our king, everyone is bleak,” Carter summed up.

Robert punched Robin in the gut, sending him sprawling. Robin cried out in pain and gave a glare of hatred to de Sablé, who sniggered at his rival; Robin’s fall drew cries of horror from the Crusaders and screams of joy from the Templars. Robert angled his blade for a surgical kill but his next blow was suddenly blocked by Robin’s sword in a lethal combination of a crisscross blow and a diagonal blow.

The deadlock broke, and the loud cry of pain coursed through the hot air as Robin plunged his scimitar into Robert’s right shoulder. Robert sprang apart, injured and less agile than his younger rival; he staggered backwards, his arms outflung in an effort to retain his balance. Finally, he fell to his knees, weak and defeated, blood flowing out of his wound.

Robin leaped forward, sword already sweeping in a downward slash. “You wanted to kill King Richard. You insulted the king and me by accusing us of absurd things. I cannot forgive you for that. A blood debt, you may call it. I don’t care what my men may think or say of me afterward, but you will die here and now, on your knees,” he hissed, his voice edged with wild anger.

De Sablé scoffed. “Empty threats. You don’t kill.”

“I kill when I have to kill or when I want to kill. Now I want and have to kill you,” Robin shot back. “You will die on your knees, a traitor’s death, Grand Master de Sablé.” Looking down at the defeated foe, his face pale in anger, his eyes blazing with the dark blue flame of hatred, he felt that he hated de Sablé with all his heart. He couldn’t be merciful to the man.

De Sablé scoffed. “You won’t kill me, Robin Hood.”

Robin could hear the skeptical tone in his enemy’s voice. “Oh, I will kill you, with great pleasure,” he replied with a grim smile playing on his lips.

Grand Master of Knights Templar felt that, this time, Robin’s threats were real, and his expression turned horrified. “Please… please…” he beseeched, his eyes widening in shock.

Robin didn’t feel charitable. “Today I am not forgiving and kind. You tried to kill King Richard and gravely insulted him. You will pay for your grave crimes.”

Driven by hatred and anger for the traitor, Robin gave a roar, hungry for blood and vengeance, his sword raised and ready to make a finishing strike. Darkness encompassed each and every part of his heart; all that he wanted was to kill the traitor in revenge.

“No, no! Let go of me!” Robert de Sablé’s shrill voice was clear as day and echoed loudly in the air.

“You don’t deserve to live, you traitor,” Robin hissed between clenched teeth, his eyes narrowing to slits and blazing with fire. “Go to hell and burn there.”

Robin roughly grabbed Robert by the hair and swung his sword in a deadly arc, beheading his enemy. Robert’s severed head tumbled to the ground, blood flowing out on the yellow sand that was turning red. _Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, was dead_.

A spellbound Robin glanced down at his scimitar stained with the treacherous blood. At his back, the sun was well into its decline, casting the shadows of the hillside down in front of him towards the amused assassins and the Crusaders running towards Robin. It was a glorious sunset for Robin of Locksley, but he didn’t feel happy after he had cruelly avenged de Sablé’s treason against his king. A sensation of complete unreality overcame him, and yet he was conscious of the harshness of his own actions in the end of the battle. He was simply looking at his own blade, silent and contemplating the bloody carnage.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Robin turned around, and his eyes met Altaïr’s dark orbs. “The traitor is dead,” he said numbly, his eyes blank and hollow.

“I will give the order to arrest the surviving traitors,” Altaïr promised, silently motioning the assassins to surround the Knights Templar.

“Thank you.”

“Congratulations, Captain Locksley. You are deadly with a sword.”

Robin grimaced. “But not as murderous as the Hashashin are.”

“You think so, Crusader?”

“You are raised to be assassins from birth,” Robin retorted, his gaze still empty.

“I have never wished to harm King Richard,” Altaïr confessed. “I couldn’t let Robert de Sablé live, but I myself couldn’t kill him because he was your enemy, not mine, and he slighted your king and you.”

“And you gave me a chance to serve justice?”

Grand Master of the Hashashin shook his head determinedly. “Yes, I entitled you to kill the man who offended your king. I knew that you would win.”

Robin’s eyes glistened in mystification. “How?”

Altaïr smiled enigmatically. “Robin of Locksley, you are an unusual man, and I saw it.”

“Oh,” Robin breathed.

Robin and Altaïr saw the Crusaders running towards Robin. Altaïr stepped aside, the corners of his lips quivering in a smile. “Come inside the castle when you are done here.” He swung around and stalked towards his assassins, leaving dumbfounded Robin to brood over his speech.

“Oh God,” Robin whispered. He shut his eyes and swallowed back an anguished sob, his face very pale. He turned his gaze at Much running towards him.

“Robin! Robin! You have won!” Much cried out, a gust of conflicting emotions rushing across his face and through him – relief that Robin won and terror at the sight of Robin’s vacant eyes. He scooped Robin into a warm and comforting embrace. “You are alive, and this is all that matters.”

“Thank you.” Robin disentangled from Much.

Robin hugged Carter, Little John, and his other men with an equal lack of enthusiasm. Unexpectedly, Henry de Champagne also pulled Robin into his arms, hugging him like two old friends did after a long absence. Everyone was happy that Robin had gotten rid of the traitor.

“I am happy that you are alive, Robin,” de Champagne said truthfully.

Henry’s voice faded away, and Robin smiled, touched by the man’s concern with his fate. “Thank you.”

“Bravo, Robin. You saved England and our liege.” De Tosny let out a tiny smile.

Robin averted his gaze. “I am obliged to you for your courtesy, but, nevertheless, I am asking you to spare me your compliments, please.”

“As you wish,” de Tosny responded, his eyes taking in his captain’s aloof face. He guessed that Robin wasn’t pleased with the way he had killed Grand Master of the Knights Templar.

Robin crouched near the headless corpse of Robert de Sablé. He ransacked the inner pockets of Robert’s tunic and finally extracted the folded parchment stained with blood. He held the parchment with both hands and gazed down at it in silence while every man stared at Robin in anticipation. He unrolled the parchment and found what they were looking for – the much-discussed Pact of Caen, with the list of the nobles from the continental lands of the Angevin Empire, who had betrayed King Richard.

Robin wanted to say many things but could force himself to say only one. “This is the Pact of Caen.”

“We have done it,” Henry said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“King Richard is saved by us,” Much said proudly.

“Well done,” John uttered, struggling to mask how much affected he was by Robin’s cruel actions.

“There are many nobles who betrayed our king,” Carter commented dryly, looking at the long list of traitors. “Among them, there are even people who claim to be King Richard’s loyal supporters.”

“All of them are traitors!” De Tosny looked outraged.

“I swear that we will deal with them,” Robin responded, his eyes glittering with dark rage. He stood as if he had been thunderstruck, for he had never expected how many people participated in the plots against Richard. “We thwarted the regicide attempt, and now Vaisey and Gisborne will come here; they will also pay for high treason.”

Robin glared to Roger de Tosny, who felt a knot forming in his stomach at the thought of Guy’s high treason against King Richard and of Robin’s hatred for Guy. Robin didn’t trust Roger completely, and he knew about that very well. As Robin glanced away, de Tosny sighed with relief. As he promised Robin, Roger had revealed to the king his back story with Guy, but, despite his fears, Richard had given him his trust and had asked nothing to prove his loyalty. Notwithstanding the above, de Tosny still felt guilty as his duty was to leave Guy, whom he had liked so much in the past, at the mercy of King Richard, Robin, and the Crusaders who were overzealous to punish the Black Knights.

Nobody of the Crusaders uttered another word, merely staring at Robin as they waited for him to gather his scattered wits in the light of the violent fight with Grand Master of the Knights Templar.

“I hate traitors! Goddamn their evil, low, money-getting, and wealth-loving souls! They must be executed and their heads put on spikes as an example for others,” Robin proclaimed passionately.

Much placed a comforting hand oh Robin’s shoulder. “Are you alright, Robin?”

“I am fine,” Robin barked, looking down, at the list of the traitors. “I just hate when friends become traitors for money, power, and status which don’t matter at all.”

“How I understand you! Damn all traitors to the deepest, darkest pits of hell!” Carter snapped.

“We will deal with them,” de Tosny said, clenching his fists.

Henry gnashed his teeth. “Nobody will harm King Richard.”

“Nobody will kill King Richard, even if I have to die in battle with the Black Knights,” Robin took an oath, his eyes aglow with the fires of hate.

There was a moment's silence. The king’s men shared anxious glances, then stared at Robin.

“You won’t die, Robin! Never say that!” Much burst out.

“I am not going to die, but if I have to sacrifice my life for England and the king, I will do that without any hesitation,” Robin elaborated.

“Ah!” Much shook his head.

Robin came to Henry de Champagne, who looked at him attentively and with a glitter of displeasure. He managed a smile. “Between you and me, Monsieur Henry, I want to make a truce with you, for the sake of peace in the Holy Land and for King Richard, whom we both love.”

De Champagne raised a quizzical brow. “A truce?”

“A truce to appease our bitter and tired spirits,” Robin mocked. “Grant me your forgiveness for having an affair with Lady Isabella, and then everything will be alright.”

“Never!” Henry fumed. “I cannot forgive you for sleeping with my wife.”

"Hmm,” Robin grumbled. “You are not an example of marital fidelity.”

“It is not your deal, Sir Robin.”

“Please don’t forget that I am marrying Lady Melisende Plantagenet very soon,” Robin reminded cautiously. “You may drive us, then, to open warfare in our own family.”

“And what?” Henry barked.

"Think more! If you continue taunting me, we will have mocking duels in public, and you will always end up defeated. Why do you need to make us a laughing stock of nobility?”

"I hope, Huntingdon, you won’t force me to take any step unworthy of my rank."

“Never, my lord, never,” Robin pledged. “I also want to say that I am sorry for what we did.”

Henry paused for a moment. He looked at Robin with a tremendous concentration, quite unconscious of the sad look which came over his own face from time to time as he kept staring at the other man. "Are you are really sorry? Or is it another one of your many jokes?”

“I do mean what I say, Monsieur Henry,” Robin confirmed, looking at Henry straight into the eyes. “I sincerely beg your pardon. I should have never allowed myself to be taken… by Lady Isabella’s charms, I am sorry to say that. My affair with your wife in Limassol should have never happened. I humbly apologize and would be pleased to have a truce with you.” He nodded his head, as if he had given a second confirmation of his own words.

“Then we have a truce,” Henry replied quietly.

“Thank you, milord,” Robin said with a smile. He felt himself more royally rewarded by the achievement of truce than Count de Champagne could have felt.

Henry smiled. “Welcome.”

“Let’s go.” Robin motioned his companions to go to Grand Master of the Assassins who stood on the front steps, gesturing invitingly towards them to come to the castle.

§§§

The Crusaders followed Robin and Henry in the direction of the Masyaf Castle. The king’s men were overjoyed that the traitors had been arrested and the chief traitor – Robert de Sablé – was dead. They cheered and glorified Robin, but Robin was quiet and sullen; then his men’s cries became the cries of disappointment and frustration that their captain wasn’t expressing his joy. Robin smiled at them, faintly and shortly, and then relapsed into silence.

To everyone’s surprise, Robin accepted Altaïr’s invitation to go to one of the most sacred places at the Masyaf Castle. Robin followed Altaïr as they walked through the labyrinth of endless corridors, stairways, staircases, and small courtyards with fountains. They reached the square-shaped, central courtyard with large entrances at every side, the largest courtyard within the walls of the Masyaf Castle, which was surrounded by a continuous vaulted arcade.

Looking around, Robin could see the outlines of the mosque, with one main dome and five minarets with the turrets on the corner domes. They passed through the courtyard and climbed up a spiral staircase. Upstairs, they made their way through a long corridor, and then suddenly emerged in the midst of the mosque. Robin’s eyes grew wide in amazement as he scanned his surroundings. At the lower levels, the interior of the mosque was lined with numerous handmade ceramic tiles, which were simple and traditional in design. As they reached the gallery level, the design of the tiles became whimsical and flamboyant, with representations of flowers and fruits.

"Come with me, Robin of Locksley," Altaïr invited. “We are going to visit a very special place.”

They arrived in the large room at the gallery level. Altaïr let out a small smile, looking at Robin who paused in the middle, unsure of where they had come and why.

Indeed, Robin was astonished by what he saw; the interior of the room was rather unusual, made in several different styles – the Muslim style, which dominated in the interior design, as well as the Byzantine and the Christian styles. The magnificent gold mosaics in the covered arcades were clearly of the Christian origins, while the patterns in blue, black, white, and red on the marble floor and on the walls were obviously Muslim. There was a part of the mosque, which glared with gold and a multitude of colors and had paintings, and Robin recognized the style of the Byzantine church.

Altaïr chuckled. “Are you astonished, Sir Robin?”

“Yes, I am, Grand Master Altaïr. Where are we now?”

“This is the holy of holies of the Order of the Assassins,” Altaïr declared with such a lightning in his eyes that Robin recoiled in awe. "Fear nothing. I am not going to kill you, Crusader.”

They walked to the richly decorated minber, to the right from the mihrab. Altaïr fell to his knees and lowered his head, looking at the marble floor with colorful Saracen patterns.

Robin copied everything Grand Master did and was given a quick instruction to say something in Arabic. With a sigh of great relief, Robin realized that the assassin offered him to say personal thanks to God for the fortunate end of their mission in Masyaf. In spite of his belief that there was only one God but many ways to worship him, he would have never said anything against Christ.

“I offer you to do nothing wrong against your faith,” Altaïr said to dispel Robin’s fears. “We are in the part of the mosque where people of various religions came, which is certainly displayed in the mixture of interior styles. It is not the place where we, children of Allah, usually pray. This place is the place to thank God – any God – for the end of the day.”

“Thank you,” Robin muttered, struggling to understand why they came here.

The assassin seemed to be muttering something under his breath, as though he had been in prayer, but he had just said that he hadn’t taken Robin there to pray. Confused and startled, Robin acknowledged that he didn’t comprehend all of the Muslim rituals and didn’t understand the nation as much as he had thought before; at least, he didn’t understand the traditions of the Hashashin.

Altaïr stopped praying and glanced at Robin. Having regained a sense of calm and having noticed that the assassin observed him curiously, Robin raised his head and looked at Altaïr.

"Sir Robin, you are not proud of yourself,” Altaïr stated, his tone barely disguising the irony of his words.

“What do you mean?” Robin pretended that you understood nothing.

“Today’s duel, but mainly the Crusade and the role you played in the holy war.”

"Yes, it is true,” Robin replied modestly as he dropped his gaze. When he thought he heard the assassin chuckle, he glanced up at Altaïr and saw a smile on the other man’s face. Robin suddenly felt ashamed that he had said such words about the expedition of his king; he gazed away and swallowed hard.

“I see you are embarrassed, Crusader, but you shouldn’t feel this way,” Altaïr continued, his voice turning softer. “Let me put it this way. It is true that you are Melek-Ric’s confident and one of his chief and most favored generals, and you followed your king to the Holy Land to liberate Jerusalem from us, the infidels. Here you did many things you don’t like, but you did what you had to do for your king.”

Robin blanched. “It is out of your business,” he said, impressed with the assassin’s ability to read his thoughts and simultaneously be so discreet.

“Never mind, Robin of Locksley, but I know what you think,” Altaïr retorted. “And I see that you are a man of honor. You are the best friend and servant Melek-Ric can ever have.”

“Thank you, but I don’t deserve this high praise.”

“You have done many incredible things for your king,” Altaïr continued. “And you shouldn’t be ashamed of what you committed in the Holy Land, for you served your liege and you did what you believed was right. Every party of the holy war is wrong.”

“Pardon?” Robin asked, looking downwards. He pretended that he didn’t understand what the assassin meant. He couldn’t speak about his disappointment with the Crusade. He was the king’s man and friend; he could never shame his liege on diplomatic missions. “If you are going to criticize King Richard, then please don’t do that. I am not going to tolerate that.”

“I am not going to speak badly about your king. I have no right to do that, and it would be a blasphemous thing, for I sincerely admire Richard the Lionheart,” Altaïr said truthfully.

His last words attracted Robin’s attention, and the Crusader looked at the assassin with interest. “Thank you for your understanding and honesty, Master Assassin.”

“Everyone in the Holy Land feels shame for cruelty displayed in battles and in massacres, from time to time and depending on circumstances; everyone, including Saladin and his generals, and even we, the Hashashin. Remember my words,” Altaïr said quietly, flicking a look to him.

Robin frowned slightly. “Everyone?”

“Everyone.” Grand Master shook his head. “And you want peace?”

“King Richard wants peace. We all want peace,” Robin answered with sudden enthusiasm that he couldn’t hide. "I would give my life to have peace here; this war is pointless.”

“Stand up and come with me.” Altaïr laughed, raising his hand and showing at the door. “We will help you with your honorable mission. There is one more thing you will see and learn today.”

Altaïr shut his eyes and said something; then he rose to his feet and gestured Robin to go. They went to the great hall of the castle, where de Champagne and the other Crusaders were waiting for Robin. They made their way back through the gallery of the mosque and then its lower levels. Soon they were again wandering down long corridors, passing numerous courtyards with fountains and flowers in luxuriant profusion. Torches flared all along the inner walls, illuminating every entry, passageway, and stairwells.

Robin and Altaïr returned into the huge whitewashed hall decorated solely with banners of the Order of the Hashashin and armor lining the walls. High vaults soared overhead and an arcade supported by pillars ran down one side of the hall. The great hall was filled with the white-robed assassins, everyone armed to their teeth with knives, scimitars, daggers, and other weapons.

Scanning the crowd, Robin noticed Prince Malik, the Saracen Prince and Saladin’s nephew. Malik stood grand and stern in the middle of the hall, dressed in a white mantle and a white turban, his curved Saracen sword at his side; he smiled at Robin and bowed to him in both recognition and deep respect. Robin didn’t understand why Malik had arrived in Masyaf and he knew nothing about that.

The Crusaders waited in the opposite part of the hall, standing in line with several assassins; they looked at Robin and Malik, happy that they found a familiar face among the Hashashin.

Altaïr and Robin approached Prince Malik. They stopped at a respectful six paces away as the rules prescribed. Robin wanted to kneel down to Malik, but he smiled, dismissing Robin from that action. Instantly, Malik bowed to Grand Master of the Hashashin and Altaïr responded with a similar deep bow of respect; they exchanged a couple of words in Arabic, so quietly that Robin didn’t comprehend anything.

"Sir Robin of Locksley and Monsieur Henry de Champagne have come on their mission to Masyaf to establish an alliance between the Order of the Hashashin and King Richard the Lionheart," Altaïr said in a loud voice but with his gaze fixed on the floor. “Unfortunately and unexpectedly, we had to deal with some serious circumstances which could have prevented us from negotiating.”

Prince Malik looked at Robin, a smile hovering over his lips. “We were unhappy to learn that Sir Robert de Sablé was a traitor to King Richard. Now we are pleased that Sir Robin of Locksley honorably defended his king’s name and proved that all those accusations were false. All Gods were at Sir Robin’s side in the combat with Grand Master de Sablé, and Gods never help traitors and liars.”

Robin looked solemn. “I am grateful from the bottom of my heart, Your Highness Prince Malik and the esteemed Grand Master of the Hashashin Order, for your kind words and hospitality.” His seriousness gave way to a charming smile.

“Yes,” Altaïr replied in the same formal manner, but his eyes twinkled in something mysterious. “You may tell King Richard the Lionheart that the alliance your king was looking for is effective since today.” He paused, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. “By our alliance, I, Altaїr Ibn la-Ahad, Grand Master of the Hashashin Order, solemnly and honorably swear an oath to always notify King Richard about the dangers existing in the Holy Land for his esteemed and mighty persona and never take any dangerous action against the King of England and his men.”

Prince Malik put his hand on Holy Koran. "In the name of my Uncle, Ṣalāḥ ad-Dīn Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb, we swear on Holy Koran that we support an alliance between the Order of the Assassins and King Richard I of England, the Lionheart. We pledge to notify King Richard about all sources of immediate or potential danger to his life and the lives of his subjects. If we swore falsely, our souls will be damned forever.”

Robin was astonished that he had achieved Saladin’s support and formed an alliance with the Hashashin. This was the best outcome the king could have hoped for. The faces of the Crusaders were alight with gladness; de Champagne smiled benevolently at Robin.

Altaïr asked one of the assassins to step forward and give Robin the Christian Bible, which the young man did with earnestness and pleasure; a profound silence sank over the audience. Robin looked at Altaïr and then at Malik, each of whom smiled at him. The young assassin asked Robin to give an oath in the name of King Richard, signaling him to place his hand on the Bible and swear before God.

“As the official representative of the King of England, I hereby proclaim that we have formed an honorable alliance between the Order of the Hashashin and King Richard I of England, the Lionheart,” Robin said, his hand on the Bible. “Given Saladin’s oath to support our alliance, in the name of King Richard, I hereby swear to notify Saladin of any immediate or prospective danger for the lives of Saladin himself, any member of his family, and all his loyal subjects.”

Robin made the same speech in three languages – Arabic, Norman-French, and English. He did that to make sure that everything was clear to everyone.

As the meeting was finished and the parties exchanged official pleasantries and formal greetings, Prince Malik and Altaïr had several minutes for a short conversation.

“We meet again, Robin of Locksley,” Prince Malik said in English, almost without accent, a charismatic smile blossoming on his swarthy face. “But now you are not Robin Hood, the brave fighter for justice and the people of England, but the most loyal man subject among the king’s subjects.”

Robin laughed softly. “Lord’s ways are unfathomable.”

Malik nodded to that, as if these words were particularly familiar to him. “Only God – Allah or Christ – can know why he sent a Christian to save me from Sheriff Vaisey of Nottingham. And he sent you of all Melek-Ric’s subjects, Sir Robin. But my uncle Saladin and I owe you for saving my life."

“You have nothing to thank me for, Your Highness,” Robin said, shaking his head. “I saved your life because it was my duty as a man of honor and, partly, of God, for we all are God’s children.”

Altaïr regarded Robin with a look that seemed quite friendly, but Robin noticed something sly in his eyes, as if he were now going to be subjected to a test.

“You are a rare man, Sir Robin,” Altaïr admitted, the corner of his lips twitching up in a half smile. “You are an honorable man, the king’s servant and the people’s protector, as I see. In saving lives you serve loyally to any God, either Christ or Allah, and you serve your king; and, in serving your king, you serve and save you country and also the Holy Land.” He smiled.

Robin smiled heartily. “I am truly honored to meet you, Master Assassin.”

“God bless you, Sir Robin,” Malik said, the corner of his mouth curling up in a slight smile.

“Safety and peace be with you, Robin of Locksley,” Altaïr said with a weary little sigh, a feeling of bad foreboding hitting him hard. Looking at Robin, he felt a flurry of worry passed throughout his body, thinking that peace seekers, like Robin, often paid with their lives for their dreams. “I believe that you will bring peace to these lands shattered with destruction and overwhelmed with death.”

Robin sighed in mingled frustration and relief, for he had a strange feeling that was corroding his heart as if he had seen a bad omen. A hesitant smile appeared on his lips. “Thank you, Altaїr Ibn la-Ahad and Malik Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb, for all that you have done for us today. Thank you for everything.”

The next morning, the Crusaders left Masyaf. They rejected Altaïr’s proposal to stay for several more days, thanking the assassins and saying that the king was waiting for them. They were not yet fully rested from their previous long ride to Masyaf, but they were possessed by a frantic haste to leave the residence of the assassins behind. The great spectrum of what they had achieved was so important that nobody could wait to give the king great news.

§§§

Robin and the party returned to Acre in less than a week after the accomplished alliance with the Hashashin. Acre had already been rife with rumors of Robert de Sablé’s demise at Robin’s hand in Masyaf, all kinds of lurid tales of the bloody fight and Robin’s heroism in saving King Richard from the cunning Grand Master of the Knights Templar being carried far and wide by the Crusaders. Robin’s popularity skyrocketed, but he didn’t care about that and only nodded back at the people who congratulated him on his new achievement; he still was in slumber after the trip to Masyaf.

The Crusaders and the honest Knights Templar were outraged when King Richard proclaimed that Robert de Sablé had wanted to hire the Hashashin to murder him; he announced with pride that the traitor was stopped by Robin of Locksley and Henry de Champagne. Everyone wondered who would be the next Grand Master of the Knights Templar.

When Robin asked Richard, the king said that he would support Gilbert Horal, who had been born in the kingdom of Aragon and had entered the Knights Templar at a young age. He had stayed in the provinces of Provence and Aragon, where he had taken part in many battles of the Reconquista on the Iberian peninsula, and had eventually become Grand Master of the province. Richard wanted to support the man because he was neither English not French, thus, being a neutral party to him.

King Richard and Robin seated cross-legged on red-gold silk cushions around a long, low table in the royal tent. A magnificent dinner was served, and Robin again had to marvel at the lavishness and opulence they allowed themselves to enjoy in the Holy Land.

This time, the food was not French or English but mainly local, though cooked by Richard’s servant. Two men served tiny morsels of meat, Saracen stew mixed with spices and almond milk, sweet cakes, dishes of stewed mutton, goose, and chicken, bread made with honey, and spiced glazed pears. As usual, wine from Richard’s private collection was served, and Robin drank liberally, trying to relax.

The mood in the Crusaders’ camp improved greatly. During several days, the Crusaders drank quite a lot, very freely and with great pleasure. Some Crusaders rejoiced so much that they plunged into drunken dissipation in Acre. They tasted sin in Acre’s finest brothels and gambled in local taverns. Only yesterday, Robert de Beaumont was brought back to the camp by his men from the second guard after he had overindulged himself with alcohol so much that he had lost his conscience in a whore’s bed and had been collected from there by his comrades. Another Crusader was discovered by several night guards lying on the sand near the camp; he was penniless and absolutely inebriated, lolling on the ground and asking to fetch a prostitute for him.

King Richard decided to be indulgent for a short time. He didn’t issue severe reprimands, for he knew that his soldiers were weary and needed some relaxation. The only guard that didn’t drink and entertain on a massive scale was the king’s private guard, for they were still afraid of the new regicide attempts on Richard’s life from the Black Knights; the security procedures were toughened.

King Richard noticed Robin’s thoughtfulness. “Why are you so moody, Robin? We thwarted the last regicide attempt, and you killed the traitor – Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of the Knights Templar.” He chuckled. “Your popularity in the Holy Land is at peak.”

Robin placed a goblet of wine on the table. “I no longer care about glory and fame.”

“Really? Why?” The king looked interested.

“There are more important things than glory,” Robin offered a simple explanation.

Richard slammed an empty goblet down in front of Robin. He slapped his captain on the back. “Drink this, Robin. This wine is stronger.”

Robin raised his goblet and peered at the light contents. “This wine is good, sire.”

“Very well,” Richard said. “Now tell me what worries you.”

Robin sighed; his grip tightened around the cup. “Nothing in particular, my liege. I believe I am just…” He stumbled with words, unable to say aloud that he was weary of war.

“Drink more, Robin. You need to relax. Another cup for your recent victory with Robert de Sablé,” the king declared as he refilled two goblets, splashing some wine on the table in the process.

The young captain took a deep breath; he drank wine. “Much better.” As he slammed down yet another drained cup, he felt the muscles of his body relaxing.

“So you are weary of fighting?”

Robin veered his gaze to the king; he blinked in amazement. “How do you know, sire?”

The lion clapped the younger man on the back. “Robin, I have known you for your early youth. I can easily guess what you will do in many situations.”

“Oh, milord,” Robin breathed, looking around him detachedly.

Richard laughed heartily. “So what does our most loyal subject think about this war?”

Robin drained another goblet of wine the monarch gave him. “My liege, to your ears, my real thoughts may sound strange or perhaps even blasphemous, but I can only tell you the truth.”

“You shared with me your thoughts on the third year of the Crusade. I remember that.”

The young captain looked around, wearing an expression of discomfort. “Then I won’t speak.”

“No, speak your mind out. I like talking to you,” the lion emboldened. “And I know that some of your views have already changed since then.”

Robin looked at his boots, then raised his eyes and stared at the lion. “Sire, if I may speak freely?”

“Permission is granted.”

“Many years ago, I took the cross and journeyed to the Holy Land for noble purposes – to fight for the grace of God and Jerusalem. With all my heart, I believed in our mission, and I wished to be at your side, sire, and to protect you.” He trailed off, looking into the king’s eyes, without any blink.

Richard smiled. “So?”

“Then I realized that the Saracens are also people, even if they are the infidels. I saw that the holy war was fought with not-so-noble purposes by some of us.”

“Pray continue, Robin. Don’t fear my wrath.”

Robin took a deep breath, hesitating whether he should continue. Boldness prevailed, and he went on. “With all due respect, milord, I have to say that I was disappointed in the holy cause by the third year of the Crusade. By the middle of the fourth year, I began to consider this war futile. My perception of war changed. I changed, but my loyalty is always with you.”

Robin expected that Richard would lash out at him after his words. However, he was mistaken. They sat for a moment in silence, staring at each other.

“You might be surprised, but I share many of your thoughts.” The king smiled at Robin’s amazed expression. “We must have peace and stop fighting, and I want you to help us.”

“I am at your service.” Robin looked at the king with profound respect.

The king looked pensive. “You see, Robin, there are thousands of times more Saracens than Christians in Outremer. The Crusades continued for years, and this land is still not in ours. I realized that even if we take Jerusalem, it will just be a matter of time before the Saracens re-conquer the city. Even if we could kill all the Muslims, it wouldn't be wise because then we would starve to death.”

Robin sipped wine; he drank more than he ate. “I joined the expedition to Acre because I believed that we had to recover Jerusalem from the Saracens. I was so enthusiastic and so sure that our mission was divine that I dreamt of how we would ride in triumph on the streets of gold and of white stone churches we would see.” He sighed. “For some time, I carried in my mind the images of our victory.”

“But then many things changed. You told me about that once."

“I started killing only for England and for my king, for you, but not for God.”

“You looked at the Saracens as the people, not the infidels,” Richard finished for him.

“Yes, milord.” Robin glanced away. “It is only my opinion, but holy war is not Allah against Jesus Christ because God is the same for everyone. Ideally, any war must be between good and evil forces, but is not our case. Some Christians fight on the side of the Saracens, whereas many unbelievers fight on our side. There are good and bad people among the Christians and the Saracens, but they still kill one another for the land that belongs to everyone.”

“Robin, enough,” the king said, a sharp rebuke in his tone, a sign that Robin had crossed the line. “I shall take your words into consideration.”

Richard saw that Robin was drunk after he had emptied more than six goblets of wine. He knew Robin’s true ideas and principles very well, but he didn’t agree with them, although he didn’t criticize. He just didn’t want heated arguments with Robin now as the amount of wine, which his captain had consumed, began to dictate the volume and intensity of debates.

Robin drank more wine. “I beg your pardon for my boldness, but I cannot see this war otherwise, sire.” Despite being quite insober, he was embarrassed by his own bluntness and averted his eyes. Robin knew that if someone else, save only a few people, had said those unconventional things, the king would have never listened to such speeches and would have punished a speaker.

"You can put it that way, although I don’t share your ideas about the uniformity of religions,” Richard replied. “But I agree that we must finish this war.”

“Thank you for trusting me with your true opinion, milord.”

“ _Robin, I trust and value you more than others_ ,” Richard said in a voice that was peculiarly gentle and thick with indubitably deep emotion. “I trust very few people. You are one of them.”

Deeply touched, Robin felt warmth flush into his cheeks. “ _I treasure and cherish our friendship_.”

An already inebriated Robin lowered his head. He was lightheaded, feeling the room spin around him as the blood pounded in his temples. He drained the cup of wine, grimacing at the bitter taste. Then he poured for himself a goblet and slashed it down his throat. It was when Richard told him to stop.

“Enough wine, Robin,” Richard said strictly.

Robin giggled. “Yes, I agree.”

“Eat more sweet cakes.” The king was pleased that Robin managed to relax, for he was worried about his favorite who was always brooding over something doleful in the past days.

Robin took a Saracen sweet cake from a silver platter and sniffed it. It had a sweet, pungent smell that was unlike anything he had ever tried. He scooped a piece of cake into his mouth. “These cakes are amazing; they are very sweet. Much would have loved them.”

The lion smiled indulgently. “You can take some for your friend.”

Robin shook his head. “No, I cannot, sire. It is insubordination.”

“It will be insubordination if you don’t eat more.” The lion enjoyed teasing Robin a great deal.

Eating a piece of cake, Robin stared at the king uncomprehendingly. “My liege, I do apologize, but I am drunk,” he said dully, looking past Richard.

The lion patted Robin’s shoulder. “Today you needed to drink, lad. There are times when you need to unburden yourself, which is especially important for you as you always guard your emotions.”

Robin didn’t listen to the king; he was really drunk. “Bacchus,” he declared as he emptied the platter with cakes.

“What?” The king arched a brow.

“I mean the Greek god of wine,” Robin said curtly. “The lewd rites associated with his cult took place in several places near Acre, maybe even where we are now. His followers honored the life, death, and resurrection of Bacchus before sharing wine in his name.” He smiled. “We, the Christians, worship Jesus. But today we also shared wine, milord.”

Richard laughed. “Bacchus is a pagan God, Robin.”

“I know,” Robin said abruptly. “But his wine must be very delicious and rare, like your wines, sire.”

“Eat more, Robin.”

“I am like Much today. I am hungry. I am rarely as hungry as I am now,” Robin muttered to himself. His mouth watered as he breathed in the aroma of the tharîdah – pieces of chicken on the bone in an aromatic sauce of chickpeas, onions, eggs, pounded almonds, and cinnamon.

Richard broke into a hearty laugh. “Eat and enjoy. You need to eat now. Then you will go to bed.”

Robin greedily ate the rest of the exotic and delicious meal. He especially enjoyed the so-called maraq, which was served with rice and cooked with vegetables and meat in tomato sauce. He hardly finished the last platter of food when he drifted off to an exhausted, drunken sleep in the king’s tent, the platter still on his lap. Richard laughed at him, thinking that Robin was lucky that his men were not there; he took the platter from Robin’s knees and put it on the table.

“My dear, dear Robin,” King Richard whispered, smiling affectionately at his beloved sleeping knight. “A part of your heart will always be human and innocent.” He crouched and brushed away the locks of sandy-colored hair from Robin’s forehead. “At times I don’t want to be the king. You are a lucky man that you weren’t born in a royal family, although _you have royal blood in your veins as well_.”

To make his captain looking more presentable, the king accurately rearranged Robin’s hair, brushing it with his fingers and thinking that he liked Robin’s impish hairstyle. As Robin lay asleep on the cushions, Richard called Much and Carter, who then carried their peacefully sleeping friend into his tent. On that night, for the first time in many nights, Robin didn’t dream of bloodshed and slaughter, of Marian and Gisborne; instead, he dreamt of Melisende and King Richard.

**The End**

* * *

I **n the second part of the long epic (trilogy), “Quintessence of Life: Mysteries Unveiled”, Sheriff Vaisey, Guy, and others travel to the Holy Land to assassinate King Richard. The head-spinning events happen in Acre, the dark mysteries of the past are unmasked, and dramatic reconciliation is achieved. Yet, the fight is not over, and the Black Knights have a trump card up their sleeve.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous three chapters were mainly devoted to Guy of Gisborne and his life. This time, we focused on Robin and his long-awaited confrontation with the Hashashin. 
> 
> This chapter is a tribute to Robin’s life in the Holy Land and to his relationship with his war comrades. All the references to the events during the siege of Acre are historically correct. We have a glimpse into the hero’s life during the years of the Crusade, which, I believe, was necessary to introduce in this story, for the plot is devoted to the events in Nottingham and the events in the Holy Land after Robin leaves England at the king’s second request. 
> 
> Robin’s confessions his dissipation together with other Crusaders don't seem odd. The canonical Robin wasn’t a chaste man, but he also wasn’t an inveterate womanizer. I assume that Robin’s indiscretions were driven by the desire to feel alive, to feel a semblance of life and touch after bloody battles with the Saracens. Robin himself says the same. And he didn’t do that all the time, which even his friend Robert brought to everyone’s attention.
> 
> Robin and his friends thwart Prince John’s regicide attempt on King Richard’s life after Robin kills Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, in a long, fierce fight. I decided that one difficult and bloody duel will be enough, for Robin and his friends cannot defeat better trained Hashashin. Here we see Robin the Crusader again – dark Robin who cannot forgive everyone traitor who wanted to kill the king and insulted Richard as well.
> 
> Now King Richard and Robin have the Pact of Caen and the Pact of Nottingham. In this story, the Pact of Caen is a document signed by the nobles from Normandy, Brittany, Anjou, Maine, and Aquitaine – they are the Black Knights from the continental territories of the Angevin Empire. It is a very important twist for the future events and future conspiracies which unfold against King Richard after the achievement of peace in the Holy Land and during the king’s captivity.  
> In history, Robert de Sablé died in September 1193 in the Holy Land, but we assume that de Sablé was killed by Robin in April 1194. He was the eleventh Grand Master of the Knights Templar from 1191 to 1193 and Lord of Cyprus from 1191 to 1192. Robert’s treason against King Richard is a fictional event in this novel/story.
> 
> It is It is historically correct that Count Henry de Champagne, the nephew of King Richard and King Philippe, sought an alliance with the Hashashin on behalf of King Richard the Lionheart. He was invited to visit their fortress stronghold al-Kahf, where he met Grand Master of the Hashashin. It is known that Grand Master of the Hashashin offered de Champagne to commit a murder for show-off to honor their guest, but Henry refused. Instead, de Champagne signed the treaty and departed to Acre.
> 
> In this chapter, we had a new character – Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Grand Master of the Hashashin. We can say that this chapter is a crossover with Assassin's Creed. Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was a Syrian-born member of the Levantine Brotherhood of Assassins and served as their Mentor from 1191 until his death in 1257. This character will never appear again.
> 
> Sheriff Vaisey and his party are going to travel to the Holy Land in the next part of this novel/story – “Mysteries Unveiled.” The fight is not over. I would have sent Vaisey to the Holy Land several chapters ago, but I needed to introduce the bad blood story between Robin and Guy before the sheriff and Guy’s departure to Acre. Remember that the plot is centered on the triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy.
> 
> The dramatic and shocking events will happen during the expedition to the Holy Land. Some new characters will be introduced into the storyline in “Mysteries Unveiled”, and I think that you can probably guess whom I mean.


	18. Author's Note

My dear readers,

 

"Quintessence of Life: Mysteries of the Past", the first part of the trilogy, won't be updated anymore.

We have finished the editing and rewriting of some parts of this novel/story. Now it is in a much better shape than before, mainly thanks to my lovely cousin, although it is very difficult not to miss something in the novel/story of this length. We rewrote some scenes and dialogues to make the events connected with those happening in the third part of the trilogy "Fight for Peace". The plot wasn't changed and is centered on the Robin/King Richard/Guy triangle and the dark mysteries of Robin and Guy's past.

I hope you liked this novel/story and will give a try to the second part of the trilogy "Mysteries Unveiled". I personally like the third part "Fight for Peace", where Robin and Guy become allies and fight against Prince John and the Black Knights as brothers-in-arms, more than the two other parts. I hope to start posting "Fight for Peace" after the New Year.

Thank you for attention. I wish you to have a good day. Your reviews are always appreciated.

 

Amaranthe Athénaïs


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